This morning of the small snow I count the blessings, the leak in the faucet which makes of the sink time, the drop of the water on water.
When I go fishing I like to know that there’s nobody within five miles of me.
I don’t think of myself all the time.
The Journey of Reconciliation was organized not only to devise techniques for eliminating Jim Crow in travel, but also as a training ground for similar peaceful projects against discrimination in such major areas as employment and in the armed services.
I never had any hang-ups about sex. As for being sexually repressed, nothing could be further from the truth. There are more hang-ups now than ever there were when I was growing up.
We’re all moving, moving, moving. Isn’t it nice?
I remember way back when I was young, 10 years ago.
I defer to all these other American poets who, for some reason, I both envy and admire.
I have seen periods of progress followed by reaction. I have seen the hopes and aspirations of Negroes rise during World War II, only to be smashed during the Eisenhower years. I am seeing the victories of the Kennedy and Johnson Administrations destroyed by Richard Nixon.
And if they haven’t got poetry in them, there’s nothing you can do that will produce it.