Already I Am No Longer Looked At

I Am A Writer Perhaps Because I Am Not A Talker. It Has Always Been Hard For Me To Say Exactly What I Mean In Speech But If I Have Written A Clumsiness, I May Erase It.

What Shall I Give My Children? Who Are Poor, / Who Are Adjudged The Leastwise Of The Land...

It Frightens Me To Realize That, If I Had Died Before The Age Of Fifty, I Would Have Died A 'negro' Fraction.

Words Can Do Wonderful Things. They Pound, Purr. They Can Urge, They Can Wheedle, Whip, Whine. They Can Sing, Sass, Singe. They Can Churn, Check, Channelize. They Can Be A "hup Two Three Four." They Can Forge A Fiery Army Of A Hundred Languid Men.

We Don't Ask A Flower Any Special Reason For Its Existence. We Just Look At It And Are Able To Accept It As Being Something Different From Ourselves.