#AmericanWriters
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
I look at the world From awakening eyes in a black fac… And this is what I see: This fenced—off narrow space Assigned to me.
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
When Susanna Jones wears red her face is like an ancient cameo Turned brown by the ages. Come with a blast of trumphets, J… When Susanna Jones wears red
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
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
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…
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!