When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence

We were entwined in red rings Of blood and loneliness before The first snows fell Before muddy rivers seeded clouds Above a virgin forest, and

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing

Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.

I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,

Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city

Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.

Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water

She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running

The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.

When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the stre… Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always

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’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry