Africa? A Book One Thumbs Listlessly, Till

Not For Myself I Make This Prayer, But For This Race Of Mine That Stretches Forth From Shadowed Places Dark Hands For Bread And Wine.

The Key To All Strange Things Is In Thy Heart..../ My Spirit Has Come Home, That Sailed The Doubtful Seas.

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.

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

Lord, Forgive Me If My Need Sometimes Shapes A Human Creed.