Not Biology, But Ignorance Of Ourselves, Has

White Hate Crimes, White Hate Speech. I Still Try To Claim I Wasn't Brought Up To Hate. But Hate Isn't The Half Of It. I Grew Up In The Vast Encircling Presumption Of Whiteness - That Primary Quality Of Being Which Knows Itself, Its Passions, Only Against An Otherness That Has To Be Dehumanized. I Grew Up In White Silence That Was Utterly Obsessional. Race Was The Theme Whatever The Topic.

There Must Be Those Among Whom We Can Sit Down And Weep And Still Be Counted As Warriors.

We Who Were Loved Will Never Unlive That Crippling Fever.

Whatever Is Unnamed, Undepicted In Images, Whatever Is Omitted From Biography, Censored In Collections Of Letters, Whatever Is Misnamed As Something Else, Made Difficult-to-come-by, Whatever Is Buried In The Memory By The Collapse Of Meaning Under An Inadequate Or Lying Language - This Will Become, Not Merely Unspoken, But Unspeakable.

Increasingly I Think Of Poetry As A Theatre Of Voices, Not As Coming From A Single "i" Or From Any One Position. I Want To Imagine Voices Different From My Own.