I Cut My Teeth As The Black

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

Africa? A Book One Thumbs Listlessly, Till Slumber Comes.

I Cut My Teeth As The Black Raccoon-- For Implements Of Battle.

Ever At Thy Glowing Altar Must My Heart Grow Sick And Falter, Wishing He I Served Were Black.

Give But A Grain Of The Heart's Rich Seed, Confine Some Under Cover, And When Love Goes, Bid Him God-speed. And Find Another Lover.