#AmericanWriters
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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
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,
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
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?
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city