Unless you are here: this garden refuses to exist. Pink dragonflies fall from the air and become scorpions scratching blood out of rocks. The rainbows that dangle upon this mist: shatter. Like the smile of a child separated from his mother’s milk for the very first time. --from poem Blood and Blossoms

Happy World Poetry Day: 'The American identity has never been a singular one and the voices of poets invariably sing, in addition to their own, the voices of those around them.

The same hot lightning that burns your blood with passion–– cools your fears with peace.

Michael Jackson National African American Art Examiner Series

To create art with all the passion in one's soul is to live art with all the beauty in one's heart.

The dancing vortex of a sacred metaphor clashes horns and halos to make wounded music set to the tempo of a new era in brilliant labor.

At the edge of madness you howl diamonds and pearls.