Anniversary of Martin Luther King getting killed.
Folks at
I found this really weird at first.
And then I ran down there with older son Nick and his buddy Amir to check out what we thought was going to be Talib Kweli, Chuck D, Derek Walcott and other heavyweights panel discussing. Turns out that’s Friday. Instead we got what Nick described as the “older, intellectual” poets throwing out a few gems about what it is to be an “African-American poet.” Is there such a thing? Well, yes, and no, and yes and no. Responding to a quote from a writer not present about how the struggles of the past had left her free to write only about character, Cornelius Eady, co-founder of black poetry center, Cave Cavem, muttered, “What world is she living in?” The greatly warm Quincy Troupe opined, “I believe in this... AND that. Some people believe in THIS. And some people believe in THAT. I believe in this and that.” I liked that. Yousef Koumunyakaa, (pictured above in what looks to be about a ten year-old shot), elder statesmen from Louisiana, now at NYU, intoned, speaking off the cuff in perfect meter, his eyes dancing with wisdom, kindness, hilarity, a Great Man, I got the sense, modestly listening and then saying his piece. “Poems are distilled meditations.... about what you risk to dream.” That’s not quite right. The trouble is that to get the quote right, you’ll have to find the most obscure poetry journal in the world. Def poetry jam is on TV. How come not the top shelf poets? Yes?
