Veronica

Who wants to be free, asks my lover, she lifts her head easy, her bright horizon, is not given to everyone, her toenails painted crimson, nothing between us and the sea, the breeze kind on the peninsula, don't you want to succeed, an answer is called upon, a short step to Zion, a symphony ruined and gone, the riot of her lipstick creases, she thinks she's a funny one, the wine caresses me, if I don’t want oblivion, to refuse her refugee salon, why state marriage is a con, if I’m just a demi john ?

Veronica

Who wants to be free, asks my lover, she lifts her head easy, her bright horizon, is not given to everyone, her toenails painted crimson nothing between us and the sea, the breeze kind on the peninsula, don't you want to succeed, an answer is called upon, a short step to Zion, a symphony ruined and gone, the riot of her lipstick creases, she thinks she's a funny one, the wine caresses me, if I don’t want oblivion, to refuse her refugee salon, why state marriage is a con if I’m just a demi john ?

Sam

Absolved of troubles, we unwrap in time, she passes beyond my look, uncertainty arrested, how we’re still alive, my tears flow encrusted, delivery, testimony, rubble, between us down the line, love hangs in leaden bubbles, believe me a life is tested, amendments to that script line, broken ties need cool refreshment, they tell me 'don’t shudder,' at rattle of gates or bell chime, you’ll find another rudder, nothing disturbs the blessed, nor accepts our decline, our spirits pulled but rested,, we learn again to fly.

Ursula

She follows a trail well known, the wind blows its cover, wrapped around like a gown, pulled from dull marriage, she is crazy for others, her face a rite of passage, seduced by clubs and shown, she laughs with sequined lovers, sunshine dances down, she was / you are/ I am born, a kid of yellow troubles, but never uses scorn, on ship or ocean town, no candle can smother, the miracle of soft rebounds, she isn’t savage, and hardly makes you suffer, love might be slow in passing, but it’s a fine blue morning.

Tasha

You used to write to me then, of furs and feathers and winters, an innocent frightened pen, bloodied in a tenement, you wrote of soothing kisses, in Harlem or the Bronx, Fulton Street summers, dollars, beds, your fancy business, within seething Brooklyn, you work the five and ten, leave me here in splinters, you’re not coming home again, to that terrible wonder, of poor and lonely resisters, laying down their lovers, now you help the weathered, you my rootless sister, donning boots and leathers, snarling like a Bittern..

Rain

The place is deadly blue, her smile unknown, what the ancestors refused, hamstrung by swaying steps, she doesn’t hurt saying no, that dancing smile at rest, is looking for some news, takes your tales and shows, what you said you once knew, a passage to the blessed, young and free to bestow, light to the middle distance, catching a midnight choo choo, the engine steaming, she fills her boots, movement makes her selfless, she’ll warm her toes, in places without residence, where spirits gently flow

Quaker

She hears a strange whisper, the sound of a removal van, asks is it THE sisters !!!, each move the last trip, no one faults her tan, every move tunes her lips, she wears cool linen, the bars are full of men ocean town’s made up of them, they rise like ghost ships, she walks home in step, when sea green evening dips, but barefoot prays within, her dancing done, she'd rather have a someone, rather than the whistle, of another lonely camp, doesn’t care where she’s driven, who gives a damn ?