#AmericanWriters
It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—
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
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water
When Susanna Jones wears red her face is like an ancient cameo Turned brown by the ages. Come with a blast of trumphets, J… When Susanna Jones wears red
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
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.
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
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
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto