#AmericanWriters
With your unknown to me Odd magic You came To me:
Going out to the garden this morning to plant seeds for my winter greens —the strong, fiery mustard
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
You confide in me that you are lonely,
Before I leave the stage I will sing the only song I was meant truly to sing. It is the song of I AM.
If my sorrow were deeper I’d be, along with you, under the ocean’s floor; but today I learn that the oil that pools beneath the ocean floor
To change the world enough you must cease to be afraid of the poor. We experience your fear as the lea… humiliations; in the past
The tree of life has fallen on my small house. I thought it was so much bigger! But it is not. There in the distance I see the m…
As if I’ve swallowed A watermelon And Sidestepping My digestive tract
Word reaches us that you are sleeping, sleeping. Dismayed we have turned to the sea. We encounter among others
Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely
His posture From so many years Holding his robe with one hand Is odd. His gait
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind