IKnowWhytheCagedBirdSings

This book is dedicated to MY SON, GUY JOHNSON, AND ALL THE STRONG BLACK BIRDS OF PROMISE who defy the odds and gods and sing their songs ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I thank my mother, VIVIAN BAXTER, and my brother, BAILEY JOHNSON, who encouraged me to remember. Thanks to the HARLEM WRITERS’ GUILD for concern and to JOHN O. KILLENS who told me I could write. To NANA KOBINA NKETSIA IV who insisted that I must. Lasting gratitude to GERARD PURCELL who believed concretely and to TONY D’AMATO who understood. Thanks to ABBEY LINCOLN ROACH for naming my book. A final thanks to my editor at Random House, ROBERT LOOMIS, who gently prodded me back into the lost years. “What you looking at me for? I didn’t come to stay …” I hadn’t so much forgot as I couldn’t bring myself to remember. Other things were more important. “What you looking at me for? I didn’t come to stay …” Whether I could remember the rest of the poem or not was immaterial. The truth of the statement was like a wadded-up handkerchief, sopping wet in my fists, and the sooner they accepted it the quicker I could let my hands open and the air would cool my palms. “What you looking at me f......