#AmericanWriters
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
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
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
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
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
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
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…
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
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
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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