#AmericanWriters
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
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
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
Where is the Jim Crow section On this merry—go—round, Mister, cause I want to ride? Down South where I come from White and colored
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
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.
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why: