I'm The Crazy One Who

I Think I've Been Writing Black Poems All Along, Wearing My White Mask. I'm Always The Victim ... But No Longer!

Poetry Is My Life, My Postmark, My Hands, My Kitchen, My Face.

Saints Have No Moderation, Nor Do Poets, Just Exuberance.

I Grow Old On My Bitterness.

Poets Are Sitting In My Kitchen. Why Do These Poets Lie? Why Do Children Get Children And Did You Hear What It Said?