“listen,you a wonder.you a city of a woman.you got a geographyof your own.listen,somebody need a mapto understand you.somebody need directionsto move around you.listen,woman,you not a noplaceanonymousgirl;mister with his hands on youhe got his hands onsomedamnbody!”

“won't you celebrate with mewhat i have shaped intoa kind of life? i had no model.born in babylonboth nonwhite and womanwhat did i see to be except myself?i made it uphere on this bridge betweenstarshine and clay,my one hand holding tightmy other hand; come celebratewith me that everydaysomething has tried to kill meand has failed.”

“blessing the boats(at saint mary’s)may the tidethat is entering even nowthe lip of our understandingcarry you outbeyond the face of fearmay you kissthe wind then turn from itcertain that it willlove your backmay youopen your eyes to waterwater waving foreverand may you in your innocencesail through this to that”

“they will empty your eyes of everything you love”

“I am a black woman poet and I sound like one.”

“the lost womenI need to know their namesthose women I would have walked with,jauntily the way men go in groupsswinging their arms, and the onesthose sweating women whom I would have joinedAfter a hard game to chew the fatwhat would we have called each other laughingjoking into our beer? where are my gangs,my teams, my mislaid sisters?all the women who could have known me,where in the world are their names?”

“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.”