Skip to main content

EK from IN

 Poets from Indiana, Etheridge Knight

Black revolutionary poet, drug addict, poet of the people, Korean War vet, intellectual, member of the the Broadside Quartet--Etheridge Knight was a complicated figure. And yes, I know he was born in Mississippi and grew up in Kentucky. I know he bounced around the U.S. for a while in mythic poetic fashion and hung out with the likes of Amiri Baraka, Haki R. Madhubuti, Nikki Giovanni, the one-and-only Gwendolyn Brooks, and Sonia Sanchez, whom he was married to for two years. Yes, I know he's one of the titans of the Blacks Arts Movement. But he made his home in Indianapolis, got a college degree later in life there, made friends, mentored young poets, battled his addiction, and eventually died there. They even just put up a mural to him in Indy at the Chatterbox jazz club. 

Here's a sample from one of my favorites. You can find the entire poem on the Poetry Foundation.

Fuck Coltrane and music and clouds drifting in the sky
fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds
and alligators and all the animals that roam the earth
fuck marx and mao fuck fidel and nkrumah and
democracy and communism fuck smack and pot
and red ripe tomatoes fuck joseph fuck mary fuck
god jesus and all the disciples fuck fanon nixon
and malcolm fuck the revolution fuck freedom fuck
the whole muthafucking thing
all i want now is my woman back
so my soul can sing
 
Note: there's a great interview with Michael Collins, who knew him in Indianapolis, on WFYI in Indy. Give it a listen.

 

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

JM in IN

Poets from Indiana, John Matthias Wait, that's John Matthias. I know, you're probably like, why wasn't he the first poet on the list for Indiana? After all, he studied under John Berryman and Yvor Winters. He rubbed elbow patches with Robert Hass and Robert Pinsky. He was at Notre Dame when the MFA started, edited The Notre Dame   Review , and joked around with other amazing writers like Steve Tomasula and Joyelle McSweeney (I suppose, though I haven't heard any stories). And, finally, he's the poet that Robert Archambeau is always talking about, so you know his work is amazing .  He grew up in Ohio and went to The Ohio State U and Stanford, but he's been in South Bend long enough to be claimed as someone with "deep Indiana roots." I'm sure that some of his many books were written along the banks of the St. Joseph River.  One of my favorites is "After Quevedo." Quevedo himself writes insightfully about death, and Matthias' poem picks ...

RUJ in IN

 Poets from Indiana, Robert Underwood Johnson I know, you're like, wait, that guy looks old. Yep, Robert Underwood Johnson died in 1937. He lived through the Civil War, served as an ambassador to Italy, went camping with John Muir (yes, that one), argued for copyright laws, argued for land conservation and women's rights. He hung out with Teddy Roosevelt, Augustus Saint-Gaudens, Ulysses S. Grant, Henry James, and many others. And yes, he grew up in Indiana and graduated from Earlham College in Richmond at the age of 14. Still, even more importantly, he was a poet with many books to his name. I first came across his work in Eletha Mae Taylor's Indiana Poetry  compilation. It contains this poem, "Titian's Two Loves, in the Borghese."               One forgets not the first dead he sorrowed over;                One forgets not the first kiss of the first lover.         ...

ES in IN

Poets from Indiana, Evaleen Stein So, I'm going way back for this one, but Evaleen Stein is one of most Indiana poets featured yet. She lived and died in Lafayette. And what's more, she's pretty amazing. She's probably best known for writing novels for children, but she wrote hundreds of poems. Many of them are aimed at children, but many are observations of local nature. In addition, she translated poems from Italian and Japanese, no small feat. Just consider this excerpt from "Showery Time" (you can find the whole poem here ): In countless fluted creases The little elm-leaves show, While white as carded fleeces The dogwood blossoms blow. A rosy robe is wrapping The early red-bud trees; But still the haws are napping, Nor heed the honey-bees. And still in lazy sleeping The apple-buds are bound, But tulip-tips are peeping From out the garden ground.  This is a peaceful little poem with natural images that still scream Indiana, and it's really ju...