#AmericanWriters
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
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…
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
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…
I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
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,
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!