#AmericanWriters
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
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?
Listen! Dear dream of utter aliveness— Touching my body of utter death— Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliv… The flaming source of your bright…
Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
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…
Children, I come back today To tell you a story of the long da… That I had to climb, that I had t… In order that the race might live… Look at my face —dark as the night…
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…
Let’s go see Old Abe Sitting in the marble and the moon… Sitting lonely in the marble and t… Quiet for ten thousand centuries,… Quiet for a million, million years…