I Have A Rendezvous With

I Cut My Teeth As The Black Raccoon-- For Implements Of Battle.

My Poetry Has Become The Way Of My Giving Out What Music Is Within Me.

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

Father, Son, And Holy Ghost, So I Make An Idle Boast; Jesus Of The Twice-turned Cheek Lamb Of God, Although I Speak With My Mouth Thus, In My Heart Do I Play A Double Part.

If I Am Going To Be A Poet At All, I Am Going To Be Poet And Not Negro Poet.