#AmericanWriters
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
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
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal… It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up,
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
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
I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water
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