There Are Years That Ask Questions And

Here Was Peace. She Pulled In Her Horizon Like A Great Fish-net. Pulled It From Around The Waist Of The World And Draped It Over Her Shoulder. So Much Of Life In Its Meshes! She Called In Her Soul To Come And See.

I Made Up My Mind To Keep My Feelings To Myself Since They Did Not Seem To Matter To Anyone Else But Me.

There Is Something About Poverty That Smells Like Death. Dead Dreams Dropping Off The Heart Like Leaves In A Dry Season And Rotting Around The Feet; Impulses Smothered Too Long In The Fetid Air Of Underground Caves. The Soul Lives In Sickly Air. People Can Be Slaveships In Shoes.

When I Pitched Headforemost Into The World I Landed In The Crib Of Negroism.

Ethical And Cultural Desegregation. It Is A Contradiction In Terms To Scream Race Pride And Equality While At The Same Time Spurning Negro Teachers And Self-association.