Cornelius Eady Poems

Some folks will tell you the blues is a woman,
Some type of supernatural creature.
My mother would tell you, if she could,
About her life with my father,
...

Your body, hard vowels
In a soft dress, is still.

What you can't know
...

I walk into the bakery next door
To my apartment. They are about
...

The stage is set for imminent disaster.
Here is the little tramp, standing
On a stack of books in order
...

Off go the crows from the roof.
The crows can't hold on.
They might as well
...

You're rich, lady, hissed the young woman at
My mother as she bent in her garden.
Look at what you've got, and it was
...

New York grows
Slimmer
In his absence.
...

The umbrella, in this case;
Earlier, the stool, the
Wooden pillars that hold up
...

My friends,
As it has been proven in the laboratory,
An empty pair of dance shoes
Will sit on the floor like a wart
...