#AmericanWriters
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big jok… A dance that’s walked A song that’s spoke,
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
We, this people, on a small and lo… Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way o… To a destination where all signs t… It is possible and imperative that…
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you?
You drink a bitter draught. I sip the tears your eyes fight to… A cup of lees, of henbane steeped… Your breast is hot, Your anger black and cold,
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city