Two Poems

“one of the pages was just words”


We have to burn
everything

Our freedom
Open, in accordance

Lost
Knocked
A necessary work

A self-governing
body

First landings,
with so little known


“There must be a way.”
“Why?”

The enduring absence, still
a part, voice tells
Upon the first of home


Why do we quarrel?

Forgive me if it was my fault.










“may the blood cement”


She’s smart enough
and she’s been a servant.

Crossing the field
or frozen over lake. All men.
Before you were born.

To understand the difference
in blacks, add a little white.