#AmericanWriters
His posture From so many years Holding his robe with one hand Is odd. His gait
You confide in me that you are lonely,
When the people have won a victory whether small or large do you ever wonder
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…
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
Look into her eyes and know: She does not think
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother
in our lifetime. Which makes the idea of elections Notice how this word has “man” right in the middle of it? That’s one reason I like it. He is right there, front and center. But he i...
I Sing of Mumia brilliant and strong and of the captivity that few black men escape
She is the one who will notice that the first snapdragon of Spring is
Going out to the garden this morning to plant seeds for my winter greens —the strong, fiery mustard
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:
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
The old men used to sing And lifted a brother Carefully Out the door I used to think they