#AmericanWriters
Great are the Hittites. Their ears have mice and mice have… Their dogs bury themselves and lea… To guard the house. A single weed… Until the spiderwebs spread over t…
You give the appearance of listeni… To my thoughts, o trees, Bent over the road I am walking On a late summer evening When every one of you is a steep s…
One shows me how to lie down in a… Another how to slip my hand under… Another how to kiss with a mouth f… Another how to catch fireflies in… Here is a stable with a single bla…
Seems like a long time Since the waiter took my order. Grimy little luncheonette, The snow falling outside. Seems like it has grown darker
Fingers in an overcoat pocket. Fingers sticking out of a black leather glove. The nails chewed raw. One play is called “Thieves’ Market,” another “Night in a Dime Museum.” The fingers w...
In my great grandmother’s time, All one needed was a broom To get to see places And give the geese a chase in the… •
This last continent Still to be discovered. My hand is dreaming, is building Its ship. For crew it takes A pack of bones, for food
Here come my night thoughts On crutches, Returning from studying the heaven… What they thought about Stayed the same,
Father studied theology through th… And this was exam time. Mother knitted. I sat quietly wit… Full of pictures. Night fell. My hands grew cold touching the fa…
We don’t even take time To come up for air. We keep our mouths full and busy Eating bread and cheese And smooching in between.
Executioner happy to explain How his wristwatch works As he shadows me on the street. I call him that because he is grim… And wears black.
With only his dim lantern To tell him where he is And every time a mountain Of fresh corpses to load up Take them to the other side
St. John of the Cross wore dark g… As he passed me on the street. St. Theresa of Avila, beautiful a… Turned her back on me. “Soulmate,” they hissed. “It’s hi…
The mail truck goes down the coast Carrying a single letter. At the end of a long pier The bored seagull lifts a leg now… And forgets to put it down.
The brightly-painted horse Had a boy’s face, And four small wheels Under his feet, Plus a long string