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Wisdom of the Infinite

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

The Differences

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

The Voice Lost In the Wires

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

After Wide Sargasso Sea

Great Big Waterproof World

The Storm

I Turn Forward

Patch-Worked Trilogy

And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

Great Spirit

Elise, Elise

The Make-Up of Molecules

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

Threading Myself Through The River Called Night

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)





At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

morning thoughts (begin again)

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

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of my battered heart

sometimes the morning cup is not enough
to wake me

the weariness has truly set in

am I the keeper
of everyone
but myself

I am chilled to my winters wearied bones

yet I carry on

love is a strange prodding...
a stick
a whip
a worry-stone
a whetting edge to sharpen the heart

I wonder how my stays hold me together
how I am not in ragged shreds
or how my heart is not enlarged to the size of an
elephant's or a whale's

why this doggedness
why the hanging on

am I a betrayer of myself
and of my battered heart

and of love
the great wide leap into the unknown

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