Something about your life always makes its way into your stories. Thats just the nature of the beast.

Each of us is tied, in some fashion, to the past. We are all part of a continuum.

When I think of the Harlem Renaissance, I think of bright colors, and bold, dynamic art. African American artists of the period were, in large measure, breaking out of the constrictions white society had set for them. They were claiming and remaking their own images, and doing so in bold and striking ways.

I'm an artist...The difference is that I don't tell anybody. I refuse to give them new reasons to laugh at me.

For I am coconut / and the heart of me / is sweeter / than you know.