My Mama Moved Among the Days My Mama moved among the days like a dreamwalker in a field; seemed like what she touched was here seemed like what touched her couldn't hold, she got us almost through the high grass… — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
Children when they ask you why your mama so funny say she is a poet she don't have no sense — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
wishes for sons by Lucille Clifton i wish them cramps. i wish them a strange town and the last tampon. I wish them no… — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
“these hips are big hips. they need space to move around in. they don't fit into little petty places.” — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
I keep hearing tree talk water words and i keep knowing what they mean. — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
You might as well answer the door, my child, the truth is furiously knocking. — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
In the bigger scheme of things the universe is not asking us to do something, the universe is asking us to be something. And… — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
If i should enter the house and speak with my own voice, at last, about its awful furnitutre, pulling apart the covering over the… — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
To be a good poet, you must care more about the writing, than the writer. — Lucille Clifton Copy Share Image
