#AmericanWriters
The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been steep. Under a dead blue sky on a distant…
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?
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
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
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
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
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…
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…
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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