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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?
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
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy hands bunched on layered hip… Where bones idle under years of fa… And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation
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…
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
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…
They went home and told their wive… that never once in all their lives… had they known a girl like me, But... They went home. They said my house was licking cle…
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of lonelines… until love leaves its high holy te… and comes into our sight
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
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
