Our Dreams Draw Blood From Old Sores.

In Our Ordinaryness We Are Most Bizarre.

One Thing I Don’t Need Is Any More Apologies I Got Sorry Greetin Me At My Front Door You Can Keep Yrs I Don’t Know What To Do Wit Em They Don’t Open Doors Or Bring The Sun Back They Don’t Make Me Happy Or Get A Mornin Paper Didn’t Nobody Stop Usin My Tears To Wash Cars Cuz A Sorry.

Somebody/ Anybody Sing A Black Girl's Song Bring Her Out To Know Herself To Know You But Sing Her Rhythms Carin/ Struggle/ Hard Times Sing Her Song Of Life She's Been Dead So Long Closed In Silence So Long She Doesn't Know The Sound Of Her Own Voice Her Infinite Beauty She's Half-notes Scattered Without Rhythm/ No Tune Sing Her Sighs Sing The Song Of Her Possibilities Sing A Righteous Gospel Let Her Be Born Let Her Be Born & Handled Warmly.

I've Never Thought Of Leaving The South, Never.

I'm Committed To The Idea That One Of The Few Things Human Beings Have To Offer Is The Richness Of Unconscious And Conscious Emotional Responses To Being Alive. ... The Kind Of Esteem That's Given To Brightness/smartness Obliterates Average People Or Slow Learners From Participating Fully In Human Life, Particularly Technical And Intellectual Life. But You Cannot Exclude Any Human Being From Emotional Participation.