#AmericanWriters
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 hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you?
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
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
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
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…
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone