#AmericanWriters
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow… I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other ni… By the pale dull pallor of an old…
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a