#AmericanWriters
If you don’t know the kind of pers… and I don’t know the kind of perso… a pattern that others made may pre… and following the wrong god home w… For there is many a small betrayal…
Once in Mexico an old man was leading on a string—was it a cat? And we saw it was a tarantula sidling along in the dust, writing a message from God for people who
Most mornings I get away, slip ou… the door before light, set forth o… road, letting my feet find a caden… that softly carries me on. Nobody is up—all alone my journey begins.
Day after day up there beating my… with all the softness truth requir… I feel them shrug whenever I paus… they class my voice among tentativ… And they credit fact, force, batte…
Traveling through the dark I foun… dead on the edge of the Wilson Ri… It is usually best to roll them in… that road is narrow; to swerve mig… By glow of the tail-light I stumb…
Got up on a cool morning. Leaned… No cloud, no wind. Air that flowe… for awhile. Some dove somewhere. Been on probation most of my life.… the rest of my life been condemned…
Ours are the streets where Bess f… cancer. She went to work every day… secure houses. At her job in the l… she arranged better and better flo… students asked for books her hand…
I let history happen – sorry. When Muslims and Christians fought in the Crusades, I didn’t stop it; the Egyptians and Jews clashed and my efforts were not sufficient to prevent that. Re...
Sometimes up out of this land a legend begins to move. Is it a coming near of something under love? Love is of the earth only,
The only relics left are those lon… spangled seconds our school clock… when you crossed the social hall and we found each other alive, by our glances never to accept our…
My family slept those level miles but like a bell rung deep till daw… I drove down an aisle of sound, nothing real but in the bell, past the town where I was born.
Turn Over Your Hand Those lines on your palm, they can… for a hidden part of your life tha… those links can say—nobody’s voice can find so tiny a message as come…
Some time when the river is ice as… mistakes I have made. Ask me whet… what I have done is my life. Othe… have come their slow way into my thought, and some have tried to…
At noon in the desert a panting li… waited for history, its elbows ten… watching the curve of a particular… as if something might happen. It was looking at something farthe…
We wondered what our walk should m… taking that un-march quietly; the sun stared at our signs—“Thou… Men by a tavern said, “Those fore… to a woman with a fur, who turned…