#AmericanWriters
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
My man is Black Golden Amber Cha… Warm mouths of Brandy Fine Cautious sunlight on a patterned r… Coughing laughter, rocked on a whi… Graceful turns on woolen stilts S…
We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of lonelines… until love leaves its high holy te… and comes into our sight
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…
Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleev… to peer into my eyes while I within deny their threats and answer them with lies. Mushlike memories perform
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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…
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
We were entwined in red rings Of blood and loneliness before The first snows fell Before muddy rivers seeded clouds Above a virgin forest, and
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running