When I Start Writing A

Poetry Is Life Distilled.

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!

I've Always Thought Of Myself As A Reporter.

As You Get Older, You Find That Often The Wheat, Disentangling Itself From The Chaff, Comes Out To Meet You.

Already I Am No Longer Looked At With Lechery Or Love.