#AmericanWriters
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
I could take the Harlem night and wrap around you, Take the neon lights and make a cr… Take the Lenox Avenue busses, Taxis, subways,
The gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head w… Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the… The rain makes running pools in th…
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de