#AmericanWriters
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail
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 ...
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are w… Her bandage hides two festering so… That once perhaps were eyes.
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…
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
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 work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
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 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 —