Not Knowing It Was Hard;

Sifting Daylight Dissolves The Memory, Turns It Into Dust Motes Floating In Light.

If You Surrendered To The Air, You Could Ride It.

When I Write, I Don't Translate For White Readers.... Dostoevski Wrote For A Russian Audience, But We're Able To Read Him. If I'm Specific, And I Don't Overexplain, Then Anyone Can Overhear Me.

It's Always Seemed To Me That Black People's Grace Has Been With What They Do With Language. In Lorrain, Ohio, When I Was A Child, I Went To School With And Heard The Stories Of Mexicans, Italians, And Greeks, And I Listened. I Remember Their Language, And A Lot Of It Is Marvelous. But When I Think Of Things My Mother Or Father Or Aunts Used To Say, It Seems The Most Absolutely Striking Thing In The World.

The Peace I Am Thinking Of Is The Dance Of An Open Mind When It Engages Another Equally Open One.