Most people don’t know that Congo Square was originally a Muscogee ceremonial ground… in New Orleans, the birthplace of jazz.
You just go where poetry is, whether it’s in your heart or your mind or in books or in places where there’s live poetry or recordings.
I don’t see the desert as barren at all; I see it as full and ripe. It doesn’t need to be flattered with rain. It certainly needs rain, but it does with what it has, and creates amazing beauty.
I chose poetry. Actually, poetry chose me.
You can’t look for love, or it will run away from you. But, you know, don’t look for it. Don’t look for it. Just go where it is and appreciate it, and, you know, it will find you.
The creative act amazes me. Whether it’s poetry, whether it’s music, it’s an amazing process, and it has something to do with bringing forth the old out into the world to create and to bring forth that which will rejuvenate.
When I began to listen to poetry, it’s when I began to listen to the stones, and I began to listen to what the clouds had to say, and I began to listen to others. And I think, most importantly for all of us, then you begin to learn to listen to the soul, the soul of yourself in here, which is also the soul of everyone else.
My mother wrote lyrics and sang but was overtaken by life with four children and worked.
I come from a long line of revolutionaries.
I am a member of the Muskogee people. I’m a poet, a musician, a dreamer of sorts, a questioner. Like everyone else, I’m looking for answers of some sort or the other.