telling the truth about children's lives is radical.
I keep hearing tree talk water words and i keep knowing what they mean.
Things don't fall apart. Things hold. Lines connect in thin ways that last and last and lives become generations made out of pictures and words just kept.
You might as well answer the door, my child, the truth is furiously knocking.
Children when they ask you why your mama so funny say she is a poet she don't have no sense
I don't go get a poem. It calls me and I accept it.