Jean Toomer Poems
|1.||A Poem From Transatlantic||5/14/2012|
|6.||Portrait In Georgia||1/20/2003|
|8.||Song Of The Son||1/3/2003|
|12.||The Lost Dancer||1/3/2003|
|13.||November Cotton Flower||1/13/2003|
|17.||A Portrait In Georgia||1/3/2003|
|19.||A Certain Man||1/3/2003|
|20.||Her Lips Are Copper Wire||1/3/2003|
To those fixed on white,
White is white,
To those fixed on black,
It is the same,
And red is red,
Surely there are such sights
In the many colored world,
Or in the mind.
The strange thing is that
These people never see themselves
Or you, or me.
Are they not in their minds?
Are we not in the world?
This is a curious blindness
For those that are color blind.
What queer beliefs
That men who believe in sights
Disbelieve in seers.
O people, if you but used
Your other eyes
You would see beings.
A Certain Man
A certain man wishes to be a prince
Of this earth; he also wants to be
A saint and master of the being-world.
Conscience cannot exist in the first:
The second cannot exist without conscience.
Therefore he, who has enough conscience
To be disturbed but not enough to be
Compelled, can neither reject the one
Nor follow the other...