#AmericanWriters
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
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 was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
When a man starts out with nothing… When a man starts out with his han… Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world… He starts first with himself
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
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.
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
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
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…
Children, I come back today To tell you a story of the long da… That I had to climb, that I had t… In order that the race might live… Look at my face —dark as the night…
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left