“I am a goddess” she exclaimed!
The Dreads of her hairs fall on her cheeks
The eyes blazing like the black cat on a dark street
One must not cross her path or be cursed
Licking tongues, burning lips, turning into ashes by the mystical heat of leafs and weed
I at once understood ashes will turn into ages
Just as ink turn into pages and pages into verses and verses into lyrical poetry
From one block to another I skate in the magical gloom of Negro streets
I saw many caged birds in the American neighborhoods
Stars scattered in the space on an ungodly night
A gaze watched it all and whispered into the strangers ears
Listen! If this world is not a dream what else a dream would be if not the world?
The Portrait of an Artist 