Jean Toomer Soft Poems
- 1. For M.w.
There is no transcience of twilight in
The beauty of your soft dusk-dimpled face,
No flicker of a slender flame in space,
In crucibles, fragility crystalline.
... - 2. Georgia Dusk
The sky, lazily disdaining to pursue
The setting sun, too indolent to hold
A lengthened tournament for flashing gold,
Passively darkens for night's barbeque,
... - 3. Seventh Street
Money burns the pocket, pocket hurts,
Bootleggers in silken shirts,
Ballooned, zooming Cadillacs,
Whizzing, whizzing down the street-car tracks.
... - 4. Harvest Song
I am a reaper whose muscles set at sundown. All my oats
are cradled.
But I am too chilled, and too fatigued to bind them.
And I hunger.
...
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