Tuesday, 20 August 2019

Tuesday Poem: "American Sonnet for My Past and Future Assassin' by Terrance Hayes


The black poet would love to say his century began
With Hughes or, God forbid, Wheatley, but actually

It began with all the poetry weirdos & worriers, warriors,

Poetry whiners & winos falling from ship bows, sunset

Bridges & windows. In a second I’ll tell you how little

Writing rescues. My hunch is that Sylvia Plath was not

Especially fun company. A drama queen, thin-skinned,

And skittery, she thought her poems were ordinary.

What do you call a visionary who does not recognize

Her vision? Orpheus was alone when he invented writing.

His manic drawing became a kind of writing when he sent

His beloved a sketch of an eye with an X struck through it.

He meant 
I am blind without you. She thought he meant
I never want to see you again. It is possible he meant that, too. 

by Terrance Hayes


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