#AmericanWriters
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
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…
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
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…
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da… I built my hut near the Congo and…
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —