#AmericanWriters
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
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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
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…
Pretty women wonder where my secre… I’m not cute or built to suit a fa… But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say,
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
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
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the stre… Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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
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…
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts