#AmericanWriters
She is the one who will notice that the first snapdragon of Spring is
Knowing you might some day come and how unprepared I’ve always been like Mr. Sloppy in Charles Dickens’
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
You confide in me that you are lonely,
Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely
Going out to the garden this morning to plant seeds for my winter greens —the strong, fiery mustard
Word reaches us that you are sleeping, sleeping. Dismayed we have turned to the sea. We encounter among others
With your unknown to me Odd magic You came To me:
His posture From so many years Holding his robe with one hand Is odd. His gait
If I was President The first thing I would do is call Mumia Abu—Jamal. No, if I was president
I have a friend who is turning gray, not just her hair, and I do not know why this is so.
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
Don’t be like those who ask for ev… praise, a blurb, a free ride in my… limousine. They ask for everything… anything in return. Be like those who can see that my…
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
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