It Was Terrible When A Single Conversation

If Someday, In A Morning, You See You, In A Mirror Or The Dent Of A Spoon, And Wonder Where Is My Soul And Where Has It Gone, Remember This: Catch The Gaze Of A Woman On The Metro, Subway, Tram. Look At A Man. Seek And You Will Find You In The Silvered Space, A Flash Between Souls.

I Still Have Everything You Gave Me It Is Dusty On The Edges. It Is Slightly Rotten. I Guard It Without Thinking. I Focus On It Once A Year When I Shake It Out In The Wind. I Do Not Ache. I Would Not Trade.

... The Real Heroes Of Race And Culture Would Always Be The People Who Stepped Out Of Their Own Line To Make A Larger Circle.

I Support All People On Earth Who Have Bodies Like And Unlike My Body, Skins And Moles And Old Scars, Secret And Public Hair, Crooked Toes. I Support Those Who Have Done Nothing Large.

A Poem Is A Cup Of Words Open To The Sky And Wind In A Bucket.