#AmericanWriters
I Sing of Mumia brilliant and strong and of the captivity that few black men escape
You confide in me that you are lonely,
She is the one who will notice that the first snapdragon of Spring is
Word reaches us that you are sleeping, sleeping. Dismayed we have turned to the sea. We encounter among others
Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely
Did you ever understand this? If my spirit was poor, how could… Was I depressed? Understanding editing, I see how a comma, removed or inse…
I said to Poetry:"I’m finished with you." Having to almost die before some wierd light comes creeping through
Before I leave the stage I will sing the only song I was meant truly to sing. It is the song of I AM.
My desire is always the same; wherever Life deposits me: I want to stick my toe & soon my whole body
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
His posture From so many years Holding his robe with one hand Is odd. His gait
When you see water in a stream you say: oh, this is stream water; When you see water in the river you say: oh, this is water
Be nobody’s darling; Be an outcast. Take the contradictions Of your life And wrap around
The old men used to sing And lifted a brother Carefully Out the door I used to think they
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how