#AmericanWriters
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is… (America never was America to me.…
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
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
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
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
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
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
When the old junk man Death Comes to gather up our bodies And toss them into the sack of obl… I wonder if he will find The corpse of a white multi—millio…
I look at the world From awakening eyes in a black fac… And this is what I see: This fenced—off narrow space Assigned to me.