#AmericanWriters #CitiesAndUrbanLife #SocialCommentaries
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
I keep on dying 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
Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy hands bunched on layered hip… Where bones idle under years of fa… And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who left dried token… Of their sojourn here
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
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…
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
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,
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that