#AmericanWriters
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
When a man starts out with nothing… When a man starts out with his han… Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world… He starts first with himself
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
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 ...
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment