#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
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,
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
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
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…
