He Made Me Realize That Hard Work--that

Poetry = Anger X Imagination

I Don’t Want Long Hair, I Don’t Want Short Hair, I Don’t Want Hair At All, And I Don’t Want To Be A Girl Or A Boy. I Want To Be A Yellow And Orange Leaf Some Little Kid Picks Up And Pastes In His Scrapbook.

I Thought I’d Been Condescended To As An Indian - That Was Nothing Compared To The Condescension For Writing Y.a.

He Wanted The Songs, The Stories, To Save Everybody.

Estranged From The Tribe That Gives No Protection, What Happens To The Soul That Hates Its Reflection?