#AmericanWriters
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’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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…
There is no warning rattle at the… nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer… Safe in the dark prison, I know t… light slides over the fingered work of a toothless
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
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…
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
Beloveds, now we know that we know… Without notice, our dear love can… In the instant that Michael is go… Though we are many, each of us is… Only when we confess our confusion…
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
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
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
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