I saw a naked dancer shuddering convulsively under an invisible rain of
fire. But while everyone shouted believing her to be possessed by the
rhythm, I stared into her eyes and just for a second, felt her reserve,
her remoteness, her inner certainty that she had nothing to do with that
admiring audience of american foreigners. All Harlem was like her. In
any event, one must speak clearly, I have not come here to entertain
you: I do not want to and simply couldn't care less. I am here to fight.
Fight hand to hand against the complacent mass. With a beauty that has
no roots and reveals no longing but hugs mystery so close to me that we become the one thing, the thingness of the things, thugs and the most high level angels
