#AmericanWriters
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
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
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
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
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…
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
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…
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big jok… A dance that’s walked A song that’s spoke,
Pretty women wonder where my secre… I’m not cute or built to suit a fa… But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say,
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
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…
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,