The Slaves Who Were Ourselves Had Known

My Spirit Is Too Ancient To Understand The Separation Of Soul & Gender

I Started Writing Because There's An Absence Of Things I Was Familiar With Or That I Dreamed About. One Of My Senses Of Anger Is Related To This Vacancy - A Yearning I Had As A Teenager. . .and When I Get Ready To Write, I Think I'm Trying To Fill That. . .

Where There Is A Woman There Is Magic. If There Is A Moon Falling From Her Mouth, She Is A Woman Who Knows Her Magic, Who Can Share Or Not Share Her Powers. A Woman With A Moon Falling From Her Mouth, Roses Between Her Legs And Tiaras Of Spanish Moss, This Woman Is A Consort Of The Spirits.

Being Alive And Being A Woman Is All I Got, But Being Colored Is A Metaphysical Dilemma I Haven't Conquered Yet.

I've Never Thought Of Leaving The South, Never.