#AmericanWriters
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
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…
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…
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
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
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water