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Hitting a Straight Lick with a Crooked Stick: Stories from the Harlem Renaissance by
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Alison Rose
is on page 81 of 291
The brook laughed and sang. When it encountered hard places in its bed, it hurled its water in sparkling dance figures up into the moonlight.
It sang louder, louder; danced faster, faster, with a coquettish splash! at the vegetation on its banks.
At last it danced boisterously into the bosom of the St John's, upsetting the whispering hyacinths who shivered and blushed, drunk with the delight of moon kisses.
— Nov 18, 2025 11:11AM
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It sang louder, louder; danced faster, faster, with a coquettish splash! at the vegetation on its banks.
At last it danced boisterously into the bosom of the St John's, upsetting the whispering hyacinths who shivered and blushed, drunk with the delight of moon kisses.
Alison Rose
is on page 45 of 291
The green-eyed monster was at his vitals.
[That's a damn good line. I also got a good laugh over "baked insults you call biscuits" :P]
— Nov 17, 2025 02:27PM
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[That's a damn good line. I also got a good laugh over "baked insults you call biscuits" :P]
