For Poems Are Like Rainbows; They Escape

This Morning I Paid Seventy Cents For Two Little Old Dried-up Slivers Of Bacon And One Cockeyed Egg. It Took Me Till Noon To Get My Appetite Back.

Life Is A System Of Half-truths And Lies, Opportunistic, Convenient Evasion.

Though You May Hear Me Holler, And You May See Me Cry-- I'll Be Dogged, Sweet Baby, If You Gonna See Me Die.

Money And Art Are Far Apart.

They [the Police] Learned Something From Them Harlem Riots. They Used To Beat Your Head Right In Public, But Now They Only Beat It After They Get You Down To The Station House.