#AmericanWriters
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
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
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.
Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail
I could take the Harlem night and wrap around you, Take the neon lights and make a cr… Take the Lenox Avenue busses, Taxis, subways,
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.
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
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…
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…
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely: