I Cut My Teeth As The Black

Yet Do I Marvel At This Curious Thing:/ To Make A Poet Black, And Bid Him Sing!

The Night Whose Sable Breast Relieves The Stark, White Stars, Is No Less Lovely Being Dark

The Key To All Strange Things Is In Thy Heart..../ My Spirit Has Come Home, That Sailed The Doubtful Seas.

Death Cut The Strings That Gave Me Life, And Handed Me To Sorrow, The Only Kind Of Middle Wife My Folks Could Beg Or Borrow.

Quaint, Outlandish Heathen Gods Black Men Fashion Out Of Rods