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

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

Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud

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…

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

When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…

Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave

There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win

Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleev… to peer into my eyes while I within deny their threats and answer them with lies. Mushlike memories perform

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

Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press