Here is the house. It is green and white. It has a red door. It is very pretty.

There is really nothing more to say — except why. But since why is difficult to handle, one must take refuge in how.

In that place, where they tore the nightshade and blackberry patches from their roots to make room for the Medallion City Golf Course, there was once a neighborhood.

Like any artist with no art form, she became dangerous.

I know what every colored woman in this country is doing. . . . Dying. Just like me. But the difference is they dying like a stump. Me, I'm going down like one of those redwoods. I sure did live in this world.

What difference do it make if the thing you scared of is real or not?

Too much tail. All that jewelry weighs it down. Like vanity. Can't nobody fly with all that shit. Wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.

If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it.