The child was never even born.
Why go on? Why so much as begin?
How can we turn the clock back now
And not laugh at each other
As ashes laugh at ashes?
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When country fiddlers held a convention in
artist who played Turkey in the Straw, withvariations.They asked him the name of the piece callingit a humdinger and he answered, ‘I call it‘Hell on the Wabash.”The two next best were The Speckled Hen, andSweet Potatoes Grow in Sandy Land, withvariations.
IF the oriole calls like last year
if the leaves climb and climb on a bean polesaying over a song learnt from the south wind,if the crickets send up the same old lessonsfound when the south wind keeps on coming,we will get by, we will keep on coming,we will get by, we will come along,we will fix our hearts over,the south wind…
I TOOK away three pictures.
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There was a high majestic fooling
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I am singing to you
Hard as a man in handcuffs,Held where he cannot move:Under the sunAre sixteen million men,Chosen for shining teeth,Sharp eyes, hard legs,And a running of young warm blood in their wrists.And a red juice runs on the green grass;And a red juice soaks the dark soil.And the sixteen million are killing. . . and killingand killing.I…
Of my city the worst that men will ever say is this:
And the glimmers that played in the grass under the great sky,And the reckless rain; you put them between wallsTo work, broken and smothered, for bread and wages,To eat dust in their throats and die empty-heartedFor a little handful of pay on a few Saturday nights.