Black Artistic Value

A woman who writes feels too much,

As if cycles and children and mountains arent enough; as if gossips and vegetables were never enough.

She thinks she can warn the moon and the stars. A writer is essentially a detective. Dear love, I am that Women, That women that believes that she can do so

A man who writes knows too much, as if he lived the entire world twice. As if he had nothing to lose even if it hit him in the face. As if he had no worries.

With used furniture he makes a house .

A writer is essentially a theif in the night

Dear love, you are that man. That one handsome man

Teach us to love ourselves

Loving even the clothes and shoes on my back and foot

we love each other, precious, dearly but precious.

Our hands are light and fragile

Our eyes are full of terrible confusion .

But when we marry within the twilight

It’s like dusk that leaves the night

There is too much food and no one left over

to eat up all hours spent on our sorrow