#Americans #Blacks #Women
Beloveds, now we know that we know… Without notice, our dear love can… In the instant that Michael is go… Though we are many, each of us is… Only when we confess our confusion…
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
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…
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
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,
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
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…
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
