#AmericanWriters
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
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
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
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 am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.