#AmericanWriters
Look into her eyes and know: She does not think
With your unknown to me Odd magic You came To me:
She is the one who will notice that the first snapdragon of Spring is
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother
Don’t be like those who ask for ev… praise, a blurb, a free ride in my… limousine. They ask for everything… anything in return. Be like those who can see that my…
I Sing of Mumia brilliant and strong and of the captivity that few black men escape
As if I’ve swallowed A watermelon And Sidestepping My digestive tract
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
I have a friend who is turning gray, not just her hair, and I do not know why this is so.
When you thought me poor, my poverty was shaming. When blackness was unwelcome we found it best that I stay home.
Going out to the garden this morning to plant seeds for my winter greens —the strong, fiery mustard
I said to Poetry:"I’m finished with you." Having to almost die before some wierd light comes creeping through
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely
Did you ever understand this? If my spirit was poor, how could… Was I depressed? Understanding editing, I see how a comma, removed or inse…