"I keep writing because I realize that until Black people’s social reality is free of oppression and exploitation, I will not be free to write as one who’s not oppressed or exploited. That is the goal. That is the struggle and the dream."
Too bad for you men who don’t notice that my eyes remember
slings and black flags
which murder with each blink of my Mississippi lashes
Too bad for you men who do not see who do not see anything
not even the gorgeous railway signals formed under my eyelids by the black and red discs of the coral snake that my munificence coils in my Mississippi tears
Too bad for you men who do not see that in the depth of the reticule where chance has deposited our Mississippi eyes
there waits a buffalo sunk to the very hilt of the swamp’s eyes
Too bad for you men who do not see that you cannot stop me from building to his fill egg-headed islands of flagrant sky"
under the calm ferocity of the immense geranium of our sun.