MY PEOPLE by Langston HughesThe night is beautiful,
So the faces of my people.
The stars are beautiful,
So the eyes of my people.
Beautiful, also, is the sun.
Beautiful, also, are the souls of my people.
UNCLE BULL-BOY by June JordanHis brother after dinner
once a year would play the piano
short and tough in white shirt
plaid suspenders green tie and
checked trousers.
Two teeth were gold. His eyes
were pink with alcohol. His fingers
thumped for Auld Lang Syne.
He played St. Louis Woman
Boogie, Blues, the light
pedestrian.
But one night after dinner
after chitterlings and pigs' feet
after bourbon and rum and rye
after turnip greens and mustard greens
and sweet potato pie
Bullboy looking everywhere
realized his brother was not there.
Who would emphasize the luxury
of ice cream by the gallon who would
repeat effusively the glamour not the gall
of five degrees outstanding on the wall?
Which head would nod and then recall
the crimes the apples stolen from the stalls
the soft coal stolen by the pile?
Who would admire
the eighteenth pair of forty
dollar shoes?
Who could extol their mother with good
brandy as his muse?
His brother dead from drinking
Bullboy drank to clear his thinking
saw the roach inside the riddle.
Soon the bubbles from his glass
were the only bits of charm
which overcame his folded arms.
AMERICAN GOTHIC by Paul VeseyTo Satch
(The legendary Satchel Page, one of the star pitchers in Negro baseball)Sometimes I feel like I will
never stop
Just go on forever
Til one fine mornin'
I'm gonna reach up and grab me a handfulla stars
Swing out my long lean leg
And whip three hot strikes burnin' down the heavens
And look over at God and say
How about that!
Copyright © 2004 by Edited by June Jordan. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.