#AmericanWriters
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
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…
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,
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
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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…
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
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,
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone