“A poet can read. A poet can write. A poet writes in her own language. A poet writes of her own people, her own history, her own vision, her own room, her own house where she sits at her own table quietly placing one word after another word until she builds a line and a movement and an image and a meaning that somersaults all of these into the signing, the absolutely individual voice of the poet: at liberty. A poet is somebody free. A poet is someone at home.”
— Phillis Wheatley
Below is a on-going collection of poems and entries dated in chronological order.