#Americans #Blacks #PulitzerPrize #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
I said to Poetry:"I’m finished with you." Having to almost die before some wierd light comes creeping through
How can Humanity look the deer in the face? How can I,
Before I leave the stage I will sing the only song I was meant truly to sing. It is the song of I AM.
I have a friend who is turning gray, not just her hair, and I do not know why this is so.
I Sing of Mumia brilliant and strong and of the captivity that few black men escape
When you thought me poor, my poverty was shaming. When blackness was unwelcome we found it best that I stay home.
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
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
To change the world enough you must cease to be afraid of the poor. We experience your fear as the lea… humiliations; in the past
If I was President The first thing I would do is call Mumia Abu—Jamal. No, if I was president
As if I’ve swallowed A watermelon And Sidestepping My digestive tract
Be nobody’s darling; Be an outcast. Take the contradictions Of your life And wrap around
When the people have won a victory whether small or large do you ever wonder
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
You confide in me that you are lonely,