#AmericanWriters
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
The highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast And folks is smoking anything that… Some people wrap their lies around… And you sit wondering
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
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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 note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know 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
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
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.
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