#AmericanWriters
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—
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
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…
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…
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
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.
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment