#AmericanWriters
We wear the mask that grins and li… It shades our cheeks and hides our… This debt we pay to human guile With torn and bleeding hearts… We smile and mouth the myriad subt…
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
They went home and told their wive… that never once in all their lives… had they known a girl like me, But... They went home. They said my house was licking cle…
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy hands bunched on layered hip… Where bones idle under years of fa… And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.