#Americans #Blacks #PulitzerPrize #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
The old men used to sing And lifted a brother Carefully Out the door I used to think they
She is the one who will notice that the first snapdragon of Spring is
You confide in me that you are lonely,
If I was President The first thing I would do is call Mumia Abu—Jamal. No, if I was president
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
Before I leave the stage I will sing the only song I was meant truly to sing. It is the song of I AM.
in our lifetime. Which makes the idea of elections Notice how this word has “man” right in the middle of it? That’s one reason I like it. He is right there, front and center. But he i...
Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely
When you thought me poor, my poverty was shaming. When blackness was unwelcome we found it best that I stay home.
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother
As if I’ve swallowed A watermelon And Sidestepping My digestive tract
Going out to the garden this morning to plant seeds for my winter greens —the strong, fiery mustard
I Sing of Mumia brilliant and strong and of the captivity that few black men escape
Word reaches us that you are sleeping, sleeping. Dismayed we have turned to the sea. We encounter among others
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind