#AmericanWriters
Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
Listen! Dear dream of utter aliveness— Touching my body of utter death— Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliv… The flaming source of your bright…
I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
