I want to sail to the strong-shouldered coast Of pure imagination and arrive At somewhere I can be my uttermost Discover what it means to be alive And find out what it takes to be a me
Whether I know it or not I am free: Though I might seem imprisoned even here Where I always thought I was meant to be By something as simple as simple fear Since what I loved best disappointed most
How beautiful it is no matter what I suffered then or now how late the day Some understand me and many do not Or would not or could not as some might say The day slants away but the night purrs near
Whether we know it or not we are free: If I could ask you anything at all It would be to sing the morning of spring Recall the golden afternoon of fall I would ask you remember everything
Pure imagination is what is true A place where we can be our uttermost Discover what it means to be alive And find out what it takes to be a we Not someplace else but inside me and you
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
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