Langston Hughes’ll cure your blues — give em to you too. Say you don’t want em?
but you do — you do, like all the boys and girls. Greasy cold fish sandwich,
box a crackerjacks — his trumpet and his banjo’ll cut you through and through.
Twister blew his front porch then set it in a field — kingdom of a front porch,
flat dab in that field. Blew his door off like a lowdown pretty girl —
yes, she blew his door off — and now he sings to Jesus from his milking stool.
November 8, 2020
November 6, 2014
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Categories: Drawings, New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Art, Langston Hughes, Library of America, Not Without Laughter, Poems, Poetry, Reading, The Blues, The Harlem Renaissance