To Destroy Is Always The

To Like An Individual Because He's Black Is Just As Insulting As To Dislike Him Because He Isn't White.

If There Are Any Heavens My Mother Will(all By Herself)have One. It Will Not Be A Pansy Heaven Or A Fragile Heaven Of Lilies-of-the-valley But It Will Be A Heaven Of Blackred Roses My Father Will Be(deep Like A Rose Tall Like A Rose) Standing Near My Swaying Over Her (silent) With Eyes Which Are Really Petals And See Nothing With The Face Of A Poet Really Which Is A Flower And Not A Face With Hands Which Whisper This Is My Beloved My (suddenly In Sunlight He Will Bow, And The Whole Garden Will Bow)

Love Is A Deeper Season Than Reason; My Sweet One

The Voice Of Your Eyes Is Deeper Than All Roses

Love Is The Voice Under All Silences, The Hope Which Has No Opposite In Fear. . .