#AmericanWriters
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.
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
The gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
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,
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely: