#AmericanWriters
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
And that is what poetry may do, wrap up your dreams, protect and preserve and hold them until maybe they come true. Columbus dreamed of finding a new world, he found it. Edison dreamed ...
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
My old man’s a white old man And my old mother’s black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mot…
Where is the Jim Crow section On this merry—go—round, Mister, cause I want to ride? Down South where I come from White and colored
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,