#AmericanWriters
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
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?
When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the stre… Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
You drink a bitter draught. I sip the tears your eyes fight to… A cup of lees, of henbane steeped… Your breast is hot, Your anger black and cold,
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
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…
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…
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence
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,
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud