#AmericanWriters
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
And that is what poetry may do, wrap up your dreams, protect and preserve and hold them until maybe they come true. Columbus dreamed of finding a new world, he found it. Edison dreamed ...
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
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…
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
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…
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?
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…
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water