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

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

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

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?

Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone

Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts

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

A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,

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

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

Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a

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

FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,

Pretty women wonder where my secre… I’m not cute or built to suit a fa… But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say,