My Last Defense / Is The Present

When You Love A Man, He Becomes More Than A Body. His Physical Limbs Expand, And His Outline Recedes, Vanishes. He Is Rich And Sweet And Right. He Is Part Of The World, The Atmosphere, The Blue Sky And The Blue Water.

When You Use The Term Minority Or Minorities In Reference To People, You're Telling Them That They're Less Than Somebody Else.

With Melted Opals For My Milk, Pearl-leaf For My Cracker.

There Can Be No Whiter Whiteness Than This One: An Insurance Man's Shirt On Its Morning Run.

The Forties And Fifties Were Years Of High Poet-incense; The Language-flowers Were Thickly Sweet. Those Flowers Whined And Begged White Folks To Pick Them, To Find Them Lovable. Then The '60s: Independent Fire!