#AmericanWriters
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
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
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
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
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?
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…
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
They went home and told their wive… that never once in all their lives… had they known a girl like me, But... They went home. They said my house was licking cle…
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
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,
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
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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…