#AmericanWriters
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
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
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Being walkers with the dawn and mo… Walkers with the sun and morning, We are not afraid of night, Nor days of gloom, Nor darkness—
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
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…
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
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…
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment