#AmericanWriters
The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been steep. Under a dead blue sky on a distant…
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
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
The highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast And folks is smoking anything that… Some people wrap their lies around… And you sit wondering
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…
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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.