#Americans #Blacks #PulitzerPrize #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
She is the one who will notice that the first snapdragon of Spring is
Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely
I said to Poetry:"I’m finished with you." Having to almost die before some wierd light comes creeping through
As if I’ve swallowed A watermelon And Sidestepping My digestive tract
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
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
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…
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
How can Humanity look the deer in the face? How can I,
You confide in me that you are lonely,
With your unknown to me Odd magic You came To me:
Knowing you might some day come and how unprepared I’ve always been like Mr. Sloppy in Charles Dickens’
Word reaches us that you are sleeping, sleeping. Dismayed we have turned to the sea. We encounter among others