We were of thirteen minds, like a tree, in which there is one Red-tail and eleven squirrel parts.
Caged: Memoirs of a Cage-Fighting PoetIn other words, I tasted a different drug. A drug called progress.
Caged: Memoirs of a Cage-Fighting PoetIt’s too bad war gets all the attention; it’s too bad the plant is easier to see than the root.
Caged: Memoirs of a Cage-Fighting PoetWhat a comfort to know that God is a poet.
Evolving in Monkey Town: How a Girl Who Knew All the Answers Learned to Ask the Questions