#AmericanWriters
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…
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
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
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
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
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
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
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 note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big jok… A dance that’s walked A song that’s spoke,
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
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