#AmericanWriters
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
Let’s go see Old Abe Sitting in the marble and the moon… Sitting lonely in the marble and t… Quiet for ten thousand centuries,… Quiet for a million, million years…
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
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…
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…
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
And that is what poetry may do, wrap up your dreams, protect and preserve and hold them until maybe they come true. Columbus dreamed of finding a new world, he found it. Edison dreamed ...
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are w… Her bandage hides two festering so… That once perhaps were eyes.
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
