#AmericanWriters
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 note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
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,
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,
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
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
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
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
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…