#AmericanWriters
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
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…
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,
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
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
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
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
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
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
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans