Poetry for a Friday Evening
Posted 28 December, 2007 at 5:27 pm by Kevin
Filed Under Activism, Poetry & Poetics, Racism, Womanism/Feminism |
Being Exit in the World
Being exit in the world
Is all over my hands
In my mouth, hair
Like syrup
Being absurd in the world sticks between
My fingers, and webs them.
Man cycled and ethos lorned
Exit in the hole alone I defend it,
I make it come alive, I come alive, explode.
I fill it with my substance, my finger, tongue,
Tears, anything.
Void in the world I exist.
All the crevices of life are meat tight
With the heat of my sweat,
I abandon none; yet abandoned am I
Alienated as at first sea eye keys unlocked
Fish hook from earth worm.
I am every project I fill, every mouth of food
Is my being in every body;
And being exits me, rots root and tree top,
My essence visits a million dark rooms
Pulsing, I lie naked with sleepers;
I chose them into being–
It is my ecstasy,
I am the leper who suffers to be.
–Calvin Hernton1
When I first discovered Calvin Hernton back in the day, I felt an instant connection to both his poetic and scholarly work. In his poetry, I loved his experimental nature, coupled with a rhythmic sensibility that wonderfully expresses his examinations of black cultural life. In his scholarly work, such as The Sexual Mountain and Black Women Writers: Adventures in Sex, Literature, and Real Life, I recognized an intellectual kinship with his desire to explore the intersections of gender and race. I later learned that he was also an exceptional and influential teacher at Oberlin College. Ajuan Mance, of Black on Campus describes his influence:
My high regard for Hernton’s legacy, however, is more deeply influenced by my encounters with Black men who knew him as a teacher and mentor. Hernton touched the hearts and minds of many students during his 28-year career as an African American Studies professor at Oberlin College, but he holds a special place in the hearts of his former Black male students, many of whom experienced him as the only Black man to ever teach them at the college level.
As a Black woman professor, I am especially touched by how deeply his views on Black women writers influenced some of the young Black men in his classes. A Black attorney I know spoke reverently of the influence Herton’s own story of transformation from a male-centered view of Black politics and anti-racist activism to a broader more inclusive vision that recognized the value of Black women writers’ critiques of sexism in novels like The Color Purple, The Women of Brewster Place, and The Bluest Eye.
…
I repeat that I never met Calvin Hernton; and for years I actually knew little of his work beyond his writings in my scholarly field. As my knowledge of his impact as a teacher has grown, however, I find myself feeling closer and closer to him, aligning myself with his legacy, aspiring to use the relationship between teacher and student in much the same way that he did, to create, challenge, and transform myself and my students, always with integrity, and always for the better.
To create, challenge, and transform–the essence of Hernton’s life and work. I hope to replicate, in whatever small ways I can.
Sphere: Related Content- Aldon Lynn Nielsen and Lauri Ramey, eds., Every Goodbye Ain’t Gone: An Anthology of Innovative Poetry by African Americans (Alabama: University of Alabama Press, 2006), 98. [↩]
Tags:Calvin Hernton
You can follow any comments to this article through the RSS 2.0 feed. Comments are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.
11 Responses to “Poetry for a Friday Evening”
-
About
Kevin
All original content at A Slant Truth is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License . All other content is presumed to be used under the doctrine of fair use and retains its original copyright.
-
Solidarity
Translate
-
Communal Awards
Brilliante Weblog awarded by Ms Lady Deborah (24 August 2008)
Kick Ass Blogger awarded by Devious Diva (12 August 2008)
Thinking Blogger Award awarded by Devious Diva (18 April 2007) and Thinking Girl (15 April 2007)
Arte y Pico Award awarded by MsLadyDeborah (30 June 2008) -
Open Source
Free yourself from closed source software!
-
Kick Ass Bloggers
Radical and Progressive Bloggers Kicking Ass Join | List | Previous | Next | Random | Previous 5 | Next 5 | Skip Previous | Skip NextStats
I just figured it out and I’m a guest poster. Slant Truth by Emily Dickinson. She wrote some poems about light that make me think she had Seasonal Affective Disorder.
There’s A Certain Slant Of Light by Emily Dickinson.
There’s a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.
Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings, are.
None may teach it anything,
‘T is the seal, despair,
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.
When it comes, the landscape listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, ‘t is like the distance
On the look of death.
Yep.
Here’s the poem the blog title comes from:
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightening to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind—
I was so touched read this ..thank you for sharing
hey thanks for turning me on to him, bro. i really love that poem!
Nasra, Nezua, glad you enjoyed the poem. I plan on getting back to more poetry blogging, so you can look forward to more.
This poem is AMAZING. Wow. It just blew me away. Thanks so much for posting it. I am going out to find a book of his NOW.
I had the great honor of being Calvin Hernton’s friend for nearly two decades. He’s the reason I went to college at almost forty after five years of being on welfare. He’s the reason I’m a sociologist today. And he challenged me to think, to be my whole self, and to write in ways that still manifest themselves virtually daily. What a lovely surprise to visit you today and find this. One of my favorite poems by him appeared in his book Medicine Man (1976):
The Distant Drummer
I am not a metaphor or symbol.
This you hear is not the wind in the trees.
Nor a cat being maimed in the street.
It is I who weep, laugh, feel pain or joy.
Speak this because I exist.
This is my voice
These words are my words, my mouth
Speaks them, my hand writes.
I am a poet.
It is my fist you hear beating
Against your ear.
Katie - Yes! Go buy immediately! I’m so glad you liked it. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.
Changeseeker - You knew Calvin Hernton?! I can only imagine what a pleasure that must have been. I can only imagine what a remarkable man he must have been.
Wow, just wow.
From everything I’ve read about his life, he has influenced so many people in so many great ways. It’s amazing. Here’s another fave of mine:
The Underlying Strife
If a poet could latch on to the Word…
The Word indisputable which is more
Than a transient thing–
If a poet could latch on–
One little gesture… so slight a sigh might set
The strife in order.
But what is a poet?
A poet is not a holiday…
A poet is not a plaything
A poet is a perpetual struggle… an eternal
Cause-of-the-People
Toward the self-liberation of a wilderness dream
Deep-frozen in a profit-driven civilization.
Lord… if I am not a poet
Why are my hands so bloody?
I heard about him somewhere.
I recognized an intellectual kinship with his desire to explore the intersections of gender and race.
This part is interesting.
What a great poem, Kevin, and so quintessentially Calvin. Thanks for sharing it. He was so humble that it has only been since his death I have come to realize how special he was to so many. It’s almost as if the relationship has continued to take on new facets even yet. Suffice it to say that there are only two people who have passed that I still cry over. One is my son. The other is Calvin Hernton.