“one thing I don’t needis any more apologiesi got sorry greetin me at my front dooryou can keep yrsi don’t know what to do wit emthey don’t open doorsor bring the sun backthey don’t make me happyor get a mornin paperdidn’t nobody stop usin my tears to wash carscuz a sorry.”

“i usedta live in the worldreally be in the worldfree & sweet talkingood mornin & thank-you & nice dayuh huhi cant nowi cant be nice to nobodynice is such a rip-offregular beauty & a smile in the streetis just a set-up”

“without any assistance or guidance from youi have loved you assiduously for 8 months 2 wks & a dayi have been stood up four timesi've left 7 packages on yr doorstepforty poems 2 plants & 3 handmade notecards i lefttown so i cd send to you have been no help to meon my jobyou call at 3:00 in the mornin on weekdaysso i cd drive 27 1/2 miles cross the bay before i go to workcharmin charminbut you are of no assistancei want you to knowthis waz an experimentto see how selifsh i cd beif i wd really carry on to snare a possible loverif i waz capable of debasin my self for the love of anotherif i cd stand not being wantedwhen i wanted to be wanted& i cannotsowith no further assistance & no guidance from youi am endin this affairthis note is attached to a planti've been waterin since the day i met youyou may water ityr damn self”

“Through my tearsI found god in myselfand I loved her fiercely”

“my spirit is too ancient to understand the separation of soul & gender”

“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.”

“somebody/ anybodysing a black girl's songbring her outto know herselfto know youbut sing her rhythmscarin/ struggle/ hard timessing her song of lifeshe's been dead so longclosed in silence so longshe doesn't know the soundof her own voiceher infinite beautyshe's half-notes scatteredwithout rhythm/ no tunesing her sighssing the song of her possibilitiessing a righteous gospellet her be bornlet her be born& handled warmly.”