#AmericanWriters
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…
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal… It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up,
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head w… Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the… The rain makes running pools in th…
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?
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think