The art of Charles White is like making love
in the early evening
after the cabs have stopped
to pick you up and the doorman said:
“Good evening ma’am. Pleasant weather we’re having.”

The images of Charles White remind me
of eating cotton candy at the zoo on a rainy day
and the candy not melting and all the other kids wondering
why

I remember once when I was little
before I smoked too many cigarettes
entering the church picnic sack race
I never expected to win just thought it would be fun
I came in second and drank at least a gallon
of lemonade then wandered off
to an old rope swing

Of all the losses of modern life the swing
in the back yard is my special regret
one dreams going back and forth of time and space
stopping bowing to one’s sheer magnificence
pumping higher and higher space blurs time
and the world stops spinning while I in my swing
give a curtsey correctly
my pigtails in place and my bangs cut
just right

“But why aren’t the artists the politicians” she asked
“because they’re too nice.” was the reply
“too logical too compassionate”
which not understanding I took to mean “sexy”—at least
that’s how come and passionate were used in the novels
Johnetta and I used to sneak and read
And in the grown up world I think I understand
that passion is politics that being is beauty
and we are all in some measure responsible
for the life we live and the world
we live in

Some of us take the air, the land, the sun
and misuse our spirits       others of us have earned
our right to be called men and women

Charles White and his art were introduced to me 
through magazines and books—that’s why I love them

Charles White and his art were shared with me through
love and concern—that’s why I value those

Charles White and his art live in my heart and the heart
of our people—that’s why I think
love is worthwhile