I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!

Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?

The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.

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…

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 rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know

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!

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, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,