It is brave to be involved
Art hurts. Art urges voyages - and it is easier to stay at home.
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 shall create! If not a note, a hole./If not an overture, a desecration.
The poetry is myself.
Poetry is life distilled.