It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.

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.

Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.

I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—

And that is what poetry may do, wrap up your dreams, protect and preserve and hold them until maybe they come true. Columbus dreamed of finding a new world, he found it. Edison dreamed ...

The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.

Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head w… Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the… The rain makes running pools in th…

Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think

I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!

Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams

How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water

I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da… I built my hut near the Congo and…