Jean Toomer: Harvest Song
My ears are caked with dust of oat-fields at harvest-time.
October 18, 2024 · 8 Comments
Jean Toomer: Beehive
Earth is a waxen cell of the world comb,
And I, a drone,
Lying on my back,
Lipping honey
April 12, 2024 · 3 Comments
Jean Toomer: Banking Coal
Somehow the fire was furnaced,
And then the time was ripe for some to say,
“Right banking of the furnace saves the coal.”
I’ve seen them set to work, each in his way
January 5, 2024 · 7 Comments
