#AmericanWriters
His posture From so many years Holding his robe with one hand Is odd. His gait
As if I’ve swallowed A watermelon And Sidestepping My digestive tract
If my sorrow were deeper I’d be, along with you, under the ocean’s floor; but today I learn that the oil that pools beneath the ocean floor
When you thought me poor, my poverty was shaming. When blackness was unwelcome we found it best that I stay home.
Before I leave the stage I will sing the only song I was meant truly to sing. It is the song of I AM.
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
When you see water in a stream you say: oh, this is stream water; When you see water in the river you say: oh, this is water
When the people have won a victory whether small or large do you ever wonder
Reminding us, as they witnessed our curiosity about them, that no matter the losses, there’s something fabulous going on at every stage of Life, something to let go of, maybe, but for d...
My desire is always the same; wherever Life deposits me: I want to stick my toe & soon my whole body
With your unknown to me Odd magic You came To me:
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother
I Sing of Mumia brilliant and strong and of the captivity that few black men escape
I said to Poetry:"I’m finished with you." Having to almost die before some wierd light comes creeping through