#AmericanWriters
I Sing of Mumia brilliant and strong and of the captivity that few black men escape
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother
To change the world enough you must cease to be afraid of the poor. We experience your fear as the lea… humiliations; in the past
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
I said to Poetry:"I’m finished with you." Having to almost die before some wierd light comes creeping through
Did you ever understand this? If my spirit was poor, how could… Was I depressed? Understanding editing, I see how a comma, removed or inse…
When you thought me poor, my poverty was shaming. When blackness was unwelcome we found it best that I stay home.
in our lifetime. Which makes the idea of elections Notice how this word has “man” right in the middle of it? That’s one reason I like it. He is right there, front and center. But he i...
The tree of life has fallen on my small house. I thought it was so much bigger! But it is not. There in the distance I see the m…
How can Humanity look the deer in the face? How can I,
Be nobody’s darling; Be an outcast. Take the contradictions Of your life And wrap around
His posture From so many years Holding his robe with one hand Is odd. His gait
I have a friend who is turning gray, not just her hair, and I do not know why this is so.
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
Knowing you might some day come and how unprepared I’ve always been like Mr. Sloppy in Charles Dickens’