Poetry

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After the plague took my sister, I punched the stone wall of her room so hard it shattered all the bones in my right hand. This is how the men in my family tell sad stories: we always add a little violence.

The first poem from the new book is here! NOT A LOT OF REASONS TO SING, BUT ENOUGH itself officially launches on March 29 (though if you order it from Button Poetry, you can get it early), and this poem is a good taste of things to come. Before I share some notes on the poem, I want to spotlight Casper Pham‘s incredible piece that accompanies this poem (Casper also has illustrations throughout the book):

Some background:

1. If you haven’t already heard, the new book is a “concept album,” so to speak, and all the poems are written in-character. It isn’t always clear which character is the voice of each poem, though; there’s a kind of focal-point character, Nary, but Nary and his mentor Gyre travel from village to village across this prison colony moon, and they share their poems while also listening to the poems of the people in those villages. The book is made up of a sampling of all those poems, as well as the conversations around them. The big takeaway, I guess, is that even though I wrote this, I am not the speaker.

2. This poem is a play off of my most well-known poem, “Ten Responses to the Phrase ‘Man Up’.” I just thought it’d be funny to be on stage and say “ten responses to…” and then something completely different from what the audience expects. It kind of sets up what the book is all about, in terms of… probably not being what people expect. That being said, this poem also demonstrates that the new, weird book is still covering a lot of the same ground as my older work: this is a poem creating space to think critically about masculinity, authority, and power.

Here’s the full text; thank you for reading, listening, and/or picking up the new book. Please feel free to share!

Continue reading ““Ten Responses to the Proposal To Overcome the Current Plague by Challenging It to a Duel” (The First Poem/Video from the New Book!)”

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How small a seed it takes to birth a forest. How small a spark it takes to burn down an empire.

If I’m being honest, this is maybe my favorite poem of mine, or at least one that means a lot to me. I’m very grateful that Button was able to capture this footage and chose to share it. A few quick notes:

  • I wrote this during the pandemic, parallel to writing my new book. It’s not actually in the new book, though, since that book takes place on another world and this poem is full of very Earth-centric references. But both this poem and that book explore the idea of what hope can mean, and what it can look like, amidst great crisis, grief, and uncertainty. So if you like the poem, you might like the book too.
  • I also want to be clear that, to me at least, this is a poem about finding those moments when we can choose to step up, to show up, to act. I realize that it will likely be interpreted to be more about mental health, and I worry that a line like “it only takes one moment to choose to fight” might hit differently depending on how people are hearing the poem. Of course, everyone is free to interpret how they need to; I’m just saying that for me, the poem is less about dealing with depression in a mental health sense, and more about dealing with cynicism in a political sense.
  • The poem is built from not just some of my favorite songs, but my favorite individual moments in songs. Obviously, there’s a deeper metaphor at work here, and the poem isn’t actually *about* the songs. But compiling those moments was really fun; my favorite moments aren’t always from my favorite artists, and my favorite artists don’t all show up in this poem. I would recommend it as a playlist-building exercise for anyone. It forced me to really identify those rare moments when a song “turns,” or where an already-great song becomes something truly transcendent.
  • Speaking of playlists, I made one for this poem here, especially for anyone who isn’t super familiar with the songs I chose. Bear in mind, however, that the timestamps in the poem might not be perfectly accurate, since different versions of songs (especially with videos) might have additional content that changes when the moments happen. But they should be close, at least.

Thanks so much for watching and sharing. I’d love to keep adding to this list, by the way. So if you have a favorite moment from a song, please feel free to share with me, whether on IG or whatever.

Here’s the text. The video is for an earlier draft of this piece; since then, I’ve added to it. Probably not necessary additions on a poetry level, haha, but just some extra shout outs that I wanted to include:

~~~

TENSION AND RELEASE

One minute and 42 seconds into Springsteen’s Thunder Road, when the whole song opens up exactly as though you had just… rolled down the window, to let the wind blow back your hair. 24 seconds into Yoko Kanno’s Tank! and how could we not jam? The dance choreographed to Nina Simone’s Lilac Wine, about 38 minutes and 58 seconds into the Netflix version of Beyonce’s Homecoming. Four minutes and 27 seconds into Mind Playin’ Tricks on Me, when Bushwick Bill says… I’m not going to tell you what he says! You have to listen to the song. Five minutes and six seconds into Donny Hathaway’s A Song for You. 18 seconds into Fortunate Son by CCR. 10 seconds into Lost Ones by Lauryn Hill.

I don’t believe in magic, or miracles, or destiny. Just tension and release. 

In 9th Wonder by Digable Planets, Ladybug Mecca comes in at 3:11 with… “Now you see that I’m 68 inches above sea level/ 93 million miles above these devils,” …and that rhyme, like it was meant to be, like it couldn’t be any other way, answers a question I never knew I was asking. Four minutes into Radiohead’s Let Down, the lead vocal pulls itself apart, like the splitting of a cell, like the splitting of an atom. Like 44 seconds into Think by Aretha Franklin, when a song that was already great, and already would have been a classic, transforms, and transcends… that lyric: “freedom.” Expanding, overwhelming… miraculous. 

We collect and catalog these moments. Mixtape our memory. Call it inspiration; call it ammunition. Call it evidence, the building of a case for our species, the idea that as much tension as there is in this world, the release is worth fighting for.

Pull up the footage of Sam Cooke covering Blowin’ in the Wind. Or Gogol Bordello performing Wanderlust King on Letterman. Or the video for Never Catch Me by Flying Lotus and Kendrick Lamar. Or Kesha hitting that high note in Praying. Or BTS tearing up as ARMY sings Young Forever at Wembley Stadium. Tension and release works so well in music because it’s a language our bodies already speak. At four minutes and nine seconds into Pa’lante by Hurray for the Riff Raff. We listen to our bodies. In Sabotage by the Beastie Boys: the breakdown at 1:40 and the scream at 1:52. We listen to our bodies. We feel. The bassline in Papa Was a Rolling Stone. The bassline in #1 Crush. The bassline in Come as You Are. The bassline in Dance, Dance. The bassline in Devil’s Pie.

At the lowest point in my life, I listened to D’angelo’s Voodoo every night, usually falling asleep about halfway through Send It On. But then there’s this moment, 42 minutes and 30 seconds later, in the song Untitled, where what feels like an entire album’s worth of sunrise finally erupts into day… and that would always wake me up.

And isn’t that art? Waking up.

Isn’t that the power of a moment? The DJ crossfades and a door opens. Between oblivion and being a body again. How does it feel? To step through it? 

Because yeah, it takes more than a moment… to win. Or to heal. Or to build the world we want to live in. But it only takes one moment to choose to fight. So make me a playlist of those moments, and I will listen to it whenever I need to remember: how small a seed it takes to birth a forest. How small a spark it takes to burn down an empire. How all it takes to break an infinite silence, is one… two, one two three…

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2024 Edit and Update

***My post on the 2024 election, “The ‘right now’ work of elections, and the ‘all-the-time’ work of movement-building“ is here***

I wrote this poem in 2020, to contribute to the growing number of voices from the activist left (a few examples below) encouraging people to think tactically about voting—not as the end-all-be-all of civic engagement, but as a tool in the toolbox, especially in the context of a rising fascist movement in the US. That related to the 2020 presidential election, but also to a ton of local races. The poem “went viral” during the 2022 midterms, after a handful of people more famous than me shared the specific excerpt “voting as fire extinguisher.”

It’s important to me to note: I stand by this poem in the context of when it was written, but I don’t like “voting as fire extinguisher” as a standalone excerpt. It is meant to be piece of a larger whole. That’s a poetry thing that people who are only used to engaging with political “content” don’t always understand. This poem is not telling anyone what to do or what to think—it is grappling with a complex idea, providing different possible doorways into critical thinking. The fire extinguisher section represents an angle to consider, but the poem as a whole is exploring something fundamentally more nuanced than “vote blue no matter who” or whatever. In every one of the sections in this poem, there’s a call to consider what the actual work is. The poem affirms that voting can matter, but it is also, always, pointing to the work beyond voting.

As the 2024 race takes shape (which, again, is not just about the president, but a ton of state-level races too), you get to decide which parts of this poem are useful to you and which aren’t. I appreciate the people who love this poem, and I appreciate the people who hate this poem. Because at the end of the day, voting is a tool in the toolbox, and that can be a reason to do it (tactically, defensively, or whatever), but it can also be a reason to find ways to engage with building a better world beyond voting, incorporating the work into our lives year-round, not just on election day. More on that here.

And to really spell it out: as I write this paragraph in early 2024, as the US facilitates a genocide in Gaza, I don’t think it’s appropriate or useful to share that fire extinguisher excerpt, especially as a bludgeon to get people to vote. I’ll leave the poem up here, since I think the bigger idea it’s exploring is worth thinking about, and it’s still possible that that the administration changes course due to activist pressure, but for now, maybe share this or this or this instead.

The Original Post + Poem

a photo of black-and-white leaves, with text on top: "to throw a wrench in the blood machine: five (season-appropriate) metaphors for voting; IG: @GuanteSolo"

2022 edit: here’s a new performance video of this piece, and here’s my followup post, Resources for Getting Involved *Beyond* Election Day.

I wrote this for Voices for Racial Justice’s online Get-Out-The-Vote event, where I performed alongside Erin Sharkey, Michael Kleber-Diggs, Sun Yung Shin, Essence Blakemore, Anaïs, and Kevin Reese. Check out the video of the entire event (including the following poem) here.

Also, if you’re reading this before election day, here’s my post sharing some links and resources on the process and why I think it matters. I’d also point to some other writing on this topic:

The poem itself is really just me trying to write something for my 18 year-old self, illuminating the various arguments I’ve heard, from organizers over the years, about why and how voting matters. It’s very rarely “vote because you have to!” or “vote because it’s the only way you can have a voice!” The best arguments, or at least the ones that have been most persuasive to me, are more nuanced than that. Not that nuance is always my thing as a poet… but here’s the poem (and a link to an IG version):

Continue reading “TO THROW A WRENCH IN THE BLOOD MACHINE: Five (Season-Appropriate) Metaphors for Voting”

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This is a poem I wrote back in January. Full text below.

The subtitle is “what happens when you understand conflict, but don’t understand power,” something that, I have to say, is very, very relevant in today’s political discourse. This is a super weird, very specific poem, but I think it’s pointing at an issue that is definitely worth thinking critically about.

Related: This is part of an informal series of poems about POWER. I mean, all of my poems are about power in some way, but this series (which also includes Thoughts and Prayers, Pro-Life, and A Pragmatist’s Guide to Magic, are all very explicitly about power in the context of organizing. I hope they make more sense when experienced in proximity to one another. Here’s the full text:

10 Excerpts From New York Times Op-Eds in Fictional Realities

(or “what happens when you understand conflict, but don’t understand power”)

1. “I condemned the destruction of Alderaan. Then I saw the longer video in which Princess Leia says some pretty mean stuff to Grand Moff Tarkin. In this outrage culture, it’s just so easy to ignore the larger context, and I apologize.”

2. “When we focus so much on the ‘wolfman’ terrorizing our village and eating our children, it implies that all men are wolves. We need to do a better job celebrating the men who aren’t werewolves, not just condemning the ones who are.”

3. “Dolores Umbridge tortured students. That’s no excuse for disrespect.”

4. “I don’t enjoy the hunger games. I think they’re ugly, violent spectacles. I just wonder, though, in our rush to make everything more ‘politically-correct,’ whether banning them would amount to throwing the baby out with the bathwater.”

5. “I am part of the resistance inside The Nothing’s transdimensional cabal of existence-eaters.”

6. “While it’s certainly true that the phrase ‘there is no war in Ba Sing Se’ is propaganda meant to brainwash the populace into submission, one has to admit: it is peaceful here. Residents of Ba Sing Se aren’t constantly embroiled in debates about cultural appropriation or trigger warnings; it’s a place where things just work. The politics are moderate. The economy is roaring. The strangers are helpful.”

7. “This complete inability to see nuance, to put yourself in your rival’s shoes, to compromise: indeed, the people fighting the Nazgul are the real Nazgul.”

8. “I don’t agree with Thanos murdering half the universe. But does that merit harassing him in the street, calling him names, having people trying to steal his glove? Imagine this happening to someone you agree with and see how you feel. Sure, Thanos is evil; but the Avengers are no angels themselves.”

9. “Who among us hasn’t, as an unruly youth, wiped out a village of Tusken raiders, or killed a few younglings while in the throes of teenage angst? Let boys be boys.”

10. “Count Dracula may be a blood-drinking murderer, but when these liberal college students pressure their universities to not invite him to campus for paid speaking engagements, they’re committing a different sort of murder– the murder of our first amendment rights. Now, I’m no expert, I don’t have any ‘qualifications’ that merit a regular column read by millions of people, but I do know this: as my body is devoured by a swarm of giant bats, my last thought will be one word: civility, civility, civility.

(if this post doesn’t make a lot of sense, here. are. three. pieces with some background)

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*2023 update: check out the new remix!*

New over on Button Poetry’s channel: an a capella rendition of my two verses from the song “Matches.”

You may know it from the Sifu Hotman album, or from it being featured as the weather on an episode of Welcome to Night Vale. It’s kind of a personal “mission statement,” something that drives a lot of what I try to do.

The song wasn’t written about the climate crisis, but let’s talk about it.
I’m thinking about this song in the context of today’s Global Climate Strike. Part of the song is about rejecting the narrative of the individual hero or revolutionary, and instead attempting to tap into something larger, something more communal, something more connected. Because when it comes to this work, individual action will not be enough. We need large-scale, sustainable policy change, the the mass movements that can drive that policy change. So that means joining organizations, donating to organizations, voting for candidates with bold plans to tackle the problem, pressuring the politicians who don’t, and dreaming bigger.

And yeah, if I recycle, use less plastic, and pick up litter at the park on the way there, that’s fine. But those actions are not a substitute for organizing. There’s a reason the song ends with “it’s a good thing we brought matches” and not “it’s a good thing I brought matches.”

Here in MN, today’s climate strike is sponsored by a bunch of organizations that are worth a follow, from MN350, to TakeAction MN, to MN Youth Climate Strike and beyond. Check out the “hosted by” list at the event page.

I’d also recommend checking out poet Bernard Ferguson’s fantastic “Hurricane Dorian Was a Climate Injustice” in the New Yorker, on the difference between unavoidable tragedy and avoidable injustice. Also, this profile of MN’s own Isra Hirsi, who makes vital connections between environmental justice and racial justice.

“Who do you want to be at the end of the world?”
When it comes to the climate crisis, there’s one essay I recommend everyone read: Kelly Hayes‘ “Saturday Afternoon Thoughts on the Apocalypse.” THIS QUOTE:

“And there is nothing revolutionary about fatalism. I suppose the question is, are you antifascist? Are you a revolutionary? Are you a defender of decency and life on Earth? Because no one who is any of those things has ever had the odds on their side. But you know what we do have? A meaningful existence on the edge of oblivion. And if the end really is only a few decades away, and no human intervention can stop it, then who do you want to be at the end of the world?”

Art by Peregrine

Here’s the full text:

MATCHES

the reason that I’m not a nihilist
is someday I wanna live like in star trek
and I know that we’ll never build starships
until we tackle poverty, war and hardship, so we fight
overnight or over lifetimes, organize for that warp drive
and of course I realize
that we’re a long way from it
but what better reason to start runnin’?
said if you’re gonna do the work then it’s gotta be honest
because the best of us have all already been forgotten
and if you’re in it for the recognition
I hate to disappoint, but if you do it right you’ll never get it
we don’t remember the farmer, we remember the fruit
we don’t remember the inventor, we remember the boom
the impact through the eons
so I know what side of history I wanna be on
I got a lotta ancestors on my side
I got a ancestor took a arrow to the chest and survived
I got an ancestor who cheated and lied
I got an ancestor who taught her children how to fight
so much spirit in my corner
can’t help but color outside every border
to every ancestor who kept my song alive
i swear on your unmarked graves, I will sing it ‘til I die

There are no stories told in a vacuum
There is no prophecy lighting our way
there is just a lotta darkness to be afraid of
so it’s a good thing we are not afraid
There is no superman in that phone booth
there is no rewarding our faith
there is no one who can save us
so it’s a good thing we don’t need to be saved
There are no starships in low earth orbit
No aliens to save us from ourselves
There is no voice willing to speak for us
So it’s a good thing we know how to yell
There is no chosen one, no destiny, no fate
There’s no such thing as magic
There is no light at the end of this tunnel
So it’s a good thing we brought matches

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a photo of some soil and a plant + the text "poetry playlist: reproductive justice"

(Updated 6/28/22)

It isn’t always time for poetry. When the Speaker of the House reads a poem on the day the Supreme Court overturns Roe, it makes me ashamed to be a poet. But only for a moment. As always, poetry is not “the work,” but it can support, and inform, and impact the work.

The actual work, of course, is organizing, and finding ways to support the people who are organizing. In this moment, that means supporting abortion funds, getting plugged in to existing reproductive justice networks, and following their leadership.

The poems collected here (listed below, also in playlist form) are potential doorways into dialogue, tools for people doing the everyday work of narrative-shifting. Telling our stories and speaking out about the issues we care about isn’t everything we need to do, but it is still part of the puzzle.

I make a lot of issue-based lists of poems on this site, and as always, the caveat is that lists are always imperfect and incomplete, based on my own experience/networks, NOT any kind of definitive or authoritative collection. My hope is that these poems can be starting points for further exploration:

Finally, these aren’t poems, but if there’s anyone for whom this is a new issue, or you’d just like to learn more, or get involved, a few links:

This post was originally the announcement for my new (at the time) poem. I just wanted to edit it so the list was at the top, and my poem here. Here’s a video, the full text, and some thoughts on the process:

As I often do with new poems, I wanted to share a few notes on process, and then some poems by other writers that tackle the topic in different ways.

A Few Notes on Process
This is a poem about a specific issue, but it’s also a poem that is exploring a couple different impulses:

  • I’m really interested in how we, as artists and writers, respond to fascism. I’ve written about this before, but I think ONE thing to think about is the importance of saying something, even when that something isn’t perfect or revelatory or magical. This isn’t a perfect poem, haha. It isn’t the most creative thing I’ve written. But it was important to me to stand up on a stage and say it, as soon as I had the opportunity. The poem might continue to get revised and people might catch a new draft at some point, but to me, the timeliness was more important than the timelessness.
  • The poem is also the product of a lot of conversations I’ve had with activists, organizers and advocates who work on issues related to gender, feminism, and reproductive justice. The refrain is always “men (especially cis men) need to speak up more.” That can seem super obvious, but it can be easy to forget when you’re “in” that world; for me, I’m around powerful voices who speak out on these issues all the time- that’s just my community. So I’ve often felt a pull to step back- which CAN be a healthy impulse! It can also, however, sometimes be an excuse to not do any work. It’s like, yes, it’s messed up that “men talking about being pro-choice” is still seen as bold or interesting- but that’s not an excuse not to do it.
  • I’m also really interested in multi-vocal responses, how no one poem has to be “definitive.” Multiple poems can present different angles of an argument, different POVs, etc. There are some examples below, but this framework has helped me as a writer: a poem doesn’t have to be all things to all people. A poem doesn’t have to be the conversation; it can be one piece of a much larger conversation (and different pieces may be able to do different “work” for different audiences, in different contexts). That realization, for me, has been freeing.

I don’t have a lot of faith in the power of poems to changes minds, especially about issues like abortion rights. That being said, poems can do so many other things. They can open up spaces for dialogue, they can provide useful frameworks or metaphors for understanding, they can contribute in ways both large and small to the ongoing push-and-pull of how the larger culture frames and understands complex issues, and they can plant seeds (while watering other seeds that have already been planted!)

Thank you! Please feel free to share. Full transcript:

Continue reading “A Few Poems on Reproductive Justice”

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***Update: Be sure to check out my new Spoken Word and Slam Poetry Resource Hub***

You can read the full text below, but this post is also a zine; click here to download an 11×17 PDF to print/share copies. Folding instructions here.

There’s no one way to write, perform, publish, or live poetry. This post simply shares some tools, resources, and perspectives that have been useful to me as a poet, especially a spoken word poet.

Spoken word is about the idea that everyone has a story, and every story matters. While it’s often talked about as something new, it’s deeply connected to the history of the oral tradition, the storyteller, the griot. For a (relatively) more in-depth introduction, check out Ten Things Everyone Should Know About Spoken Word and Slam Poetry.

1. Show Up: Attend an Open Mic or Poetry Slam

One of the best ways to get involved is to simply dive in—whether as a performer or just as an audience member. Spoken word is built around open mics, poetry slams, and other spaces in which anyone can show up and share something. “Showing up” might also mean checking out events or programs where we’re not performing—go to another poet’s reading, or the launch party for a literary magazine’s new issue, or a panel discussion: these can all be spaces to learn more, have fun, and build community.

While I realize that not everyone reading this lives in the Twin Cities, here is my big list of Twin Cities open mics, slams, and other opportunities. If you’re here, use it. If you’re not here, do a little searching and find the similar events in your community.

Of course, if you’re reading this during the pandemic, this may be easier said than done. But “showing up” can mean more than physically attending events. With a little research, you may be able to find a virtual open mic (like Sabrina Benaim’s) or other kind of online community, which relates to the next point.

2. Build Your Cypher: Connect with Other Writers

(2024 update: check out my new ZINE on starting your own poetry club, writing circle, or other collective effort)

There is a stereotype that writing *must* be an intensely personal, individual act. And I don’t think that’s right. To me, writing is about community. Many high schools and colleges have poetry clubs, and showing up to those can be a great first step. If you’re a student and your school doesn’t have one, start one! For those of us not in school, maybe there’s a local literary or arts organization that offers a writing circle. There are also online writing circles, like Neil Hilborn’s.

As an introvert, I also know that this point can also be easier said than done. But it doesn’t have to be as formal as a club or student organization. What counts is community—maybe it’s just a circle of friends who meet up once a week to give each other feedback. Maybe it’s an online document that multiple people can edit. Maybe it’s literally just one other person. But getting feedback from other writers, having someone to bounce ideas around with—that can be really powerful.

3. Read More, Watch More, Write More

The deluge of poetry on social media over the past five years or so has meant that there’s more poetry than ever before, right at your fingertips. I’d argue that this is a good thing, but the flipside is that there’s a lot of not-so-great work out there too. That’s fine, but it can make learning and growing as an artist a challenge: is the IG poem with ten thousand likes a “good” poem? Is your poem, that didn’t win the poetry slam, a “bad” poem? What does that even mean?

There aren’t easy answers to those questions, if there are answers at all. The key is to never stop developing your critical eye/ear. This is work. Almost every poet or artist I know whom I would call successful has years and years of work under their belts. That work doesn’t have to be some fancy, inaccessible degree—but it does have to be work. It can be fun, though. Here are a few thoughts and resources:

  • In terms of books, there are too many great poets to shout out here, but a couple of presses that regularly publish work by poets who also participate in spoken word: Write Bloody, Button Poetry, Coffee House Press, Haymarket Books—I could go on and on; feel free to add more in the comments. There are also journals and zines like Poetry Magazine, Paper Darts, Mizna, Muzzle, and many, many more.
  • Every April, TruArtSpeaks shares a daily writing prompt. Other sites, organizations, and accounts do this as well. Try to find some you like, and potentially try writing a 30/30 (30 poems in thirty days).
    • Poet Ollie Schminkey also regularly shares some great writing prompts here.

4. A Few Links Related to Publishing and Career Stuff

My work generally focuses on performance, so I don’t have much advice when it comes to publishing. But I can share a few links that may be useful:

5. A Few Tips and Tools I’d Share With Myself If I Had a Time Machine

Advice is a tricky thing, since we all write for different reasons. Some just write for fun, or for a release. Some are trying to get published and build careers. Some are creating work to support movements and inspire people. So an important framework for me is the idea of TOOLS, NOT RULES: general tips and tactics that may or may not be useful based on what we’re trying to do. I asked a few poet friends to share some:

  • Read! “Too many poets don’t read anyone but themselves, or random quotes on social media. Read books—poetry, but also fiction, nonfiction, graphic novels, everything. Audio books count.”
  • Have writers’ block? “Take a break and get inspiration from other media: movies, music, visual art, and beyond.”
  • Stage fright? “A powerful tactic that we tend to forget because it’s so simple is to practice. Build relationships with your poems through repetition.”
  • The most important part of writing is revising. “Let your first drafts emerge in whatever way makes sense for you, but don’t be satisfied with them.”
  • Take your time. “Especially with social media, there can be pressure to share everything, get published, go viral, etc. right away. I wish I had recognized that pressure for what it is: completely artificial, and often harmful. Set your own pace.”

The poems that stick with me:

  • Tend to be driven by images, not just ideas. They’re not just “deep thoughts” or manifestos; they use imagery, storytelling, and metaphor to go beyond the surface of an idea or issue. This relates to the concept of “showing vs. telling,” but again, for me, that’s a useful a concept to understand, a tool—not a rule.
  • Tend to have creative HOOKS: the concept or angle that makes a poem fresh. How is your love poem, elegy, or call-to-action different from all the other ones out there? How is it uniquely yours?
  • Tend to be focused and specific. They don’t try to tell “the whole story.” They take one moment from that story, zoom in, and explore it.
  • Tend to be more concerned with being timely than timeless. I appreciate poems that engage with the world as it is, and/or try to help me envision a better one. Feel free to disagree!

Check out my list of a few poems that illustrate these concepts (not necessarily the “best” poems or anything like that; just ones that I think represent spoken word in a powerful way and might serve as a useful introduction to the culture) here.

(BONUS POINT) 6. Live Your Life

Writing is important, but the best poems don’t come from locking ourselves away in a cabin and just writing for 20 hours every day. They come from engaging with our community, showing up to things (and “showing up” can mean a lot of different things, not just in-person activities), experiencing the world, having conversations, organizing and rabble-rousing, thinking critically, and then writing. Have fun.

It can also be very… tempting to see how poetry exists on social media and want to just immediately jump into sharing freewrites on IG and expecting overnight fame and fortune. And while that approach may work for a tiny, tiny number of people, it generally isn’t a good way to build a career. Social media can be a good way to share our work, but it’s most powerful when it’s supplementing what we’re doing offline (like building relationships, performing, showing up, reading, writing, etc.), not being a substitute for it. That’s a whole other post, but wanted to share that thought.

A running theme through all of these points is the idea that craft matters. Of course, if you’re just writing poetry for your own healing or enjoyment, whether some other poet or critic likes it or not is beside the point. But if you’re someone who is trying to make a career out of it, or really wants to find some measure of concrete success (book sales, publishing credits, a larger audience, etc.), then I hope these links, thoughts, and resources can be useful.

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photo by Tony Gao

For those who don’t know, April is National Poetry Month. For some, that means they share poetry on social media, or book poets to visit their schools (wink); others engage in “30/30s,” writing 30 poems in 30 days.

To be honest, I’ve never done a 30/30 and don’t plan to. I definitely encourage others to try it, as long as it feels like a healthy challenge, and not something stressful; it just doesn’t work for my personal process. I do, however, love the idea of sharing writing prompts, little poem starters or ideas for people who are looking for some inspiration, or are struggling with writer’s block.

TruArtSpeaks is sharing a writing prompt every day this month. Young Chicago Authors also has an archive of prompts. There are plenty of others online. For this post, I wanted to share a few of my own, with a small twist.

Most writing prompts focus on form (and that’s great!); just for a change of pace, here are a few that focus on content instead, leaving the form part completely up to you. Maybe it’s a sonnet, or a song, or a persona poem, or an open letter, or something else; but here are a few topics I’d personally like to hear more poems about.

I am not saying that these are the only important issues of our time. I am not saying that every poet should stop what they’re doing and write about these topics right now. I am not in the business of telling people what to write about (especially since we all face different interests, pressures, and expectations). But for poets, songwriters, and other kinds of artists out there who ARE actively looking for a challenge, I’d offer these five prompts:

1. How can artists meaningfully address climate change?

This has always been something I’ve wanted to write more about; it’s just challenging. For so many of us (though not all of us, of course), climate change is an abstract issue. We know it’s important, but don’t necessarily have a personal story to share. I’m also thinking about how important it is for poems to transcend the basic “hey this is something to be aware of” stuff and really get to a call-to-action. That’s also challenging, though, since so many calls-to-action are so individual-oriented, and we know that to truly address climate change, it’s going to take more than individuals choosing to recycle, or buy an electric car. A few thoughts:

  • How do you make this issue “real” for the audience? If personal narrative isn’t an option, and speaking “for” others isn’t an option, how else can imagery, metaphor, and storytelling propel a piece of art beyond the rattling off of statistics and facts? Maybe it’s a more speculative/sci-fi approach? Maybe it’s something really left-field and outside-the-box?
  • How can a poem or song invoke a sense of urgency? How do you call the audience to action in a way that acknowledges the true scope of the problem and transcends easy, individual answers, while still energizing and mobilizing people to do something? Especially when it’s so easy to feel powerless about this issue; where might power come from?

2. How can artists meaningfully address authoritarianism and fascism?

I’d argue that this is a defining issue of this particular moment in history. Of course, the US has always had an authoritarian streak, and immigrants and Muslims have always been targeted, and racism and oppression have always been built into the foundations of this country– that’s all true. But what is also true is that the past couple years have accelerated all of this in specific and meaningful ways; the implicit is becoming explicit. The most extreme elements of the Right are emboldened. And it’s all getting worse. So what can a poem do? A few thoughts:

  • A key line in my song “Bumbling Shithead Fascists” is “the smallest act of resistance/ when the emperor is naked/ is just to say it, and say it, and say it.” I wonder, sometimes, whether part of why this stuff is hard to write about is because it’s easy to write about. Of course Trump is a disaster. Of course his administration is wrong about everything and hurting people. It can feel like a challenge to say something new or original. So maybe one writing prompt here is to write about what’s happening, without the pressure to be more radical than the last person, or more “right” than the last person. Just adding our voices to the larger chorus can be valuable– poetry as witness, poetry as journalism.
  • At the same time, of course, we want to create art that cuts through the noise, that does say something new or original. So how might we do that? Maybe it’s about political education, getting more and more people to be able to identify a fascist policy or talking point when they hear it. Maybe it’s about focus– choosing one specific element of this larger political shift and really zooming in on it, in order to comment on the bigger picture. Maybe it’s about calling people to action, highlighting specific organizations doing good work and sharing ways to support them. None of that is “easy” for poets, but I think it’s important.
  • (2022 Update: here’s one attempt. Not the best thing I’ve ever written, but a fun experiment)

3. How can artists talk about electoral politics without just sounding like shills?

The 2020 elections are going to be really, really important. I’d love to hear more poems about voting, but again– those can be challenging to write. We don’t want to write “voting is the only thing you can do to create change” poems, because that isn’t true. We don’t want to write “vote for my candidate because they’re perfect” poems, because all of the Dem 2020 candidates have major baggage, and while I know a lot of us are going to vote for whomever comes out of the primary, that’s just not a very inspiring message. So how CAN we talk about electoral stuff in a way that is artistically engaging and cool? A few thoughts:

  • A get-out-the-vote poem doesn’t have to focus on a specific candidate, and it doesn’t have to position voting as the be-all-end-all of political engagement. There are more nuanced ways to talk about all that. In this poem, Tish Jones makes some great connections; here’s what I wrote about it: “…the poem isn’t parroting the old ‘vote because it’s your civic DUTY’ line; it’s saying something more specific, and more meaningful. It’s connecting the listener– especially the listener who may not come from a privileged place in society– to a history of struggle, not to mention a *present* in which far too many people have had their rights stripped away. That connection drives the call-to-action.”
  • (2022 Update: I tried to write one myself. It did end up “going viral,” which doesn’t mean that it’s any good, but I think it does some work)

4. What does the world that we’re fighting for look like?

This could be a writing prompt on its own: describe a healthy, peaceful, just world. What does it look like? What does it sound like? What do you notice as you walk down the street? There’s also a deeper question in this prompt, though, something about the power of art to visualize movement goals before the policy/strategy language exists for them. Franny Choi’s “Field Trip to the Museum of Human History” does this. Sci-fi work from writers like NK Jemisin does this. A few thoughts:

  • That world doesn’t have to be perfect. In fact, it can be powerful to acknowledge that a healthy, peaceful, just world isn’t necessarily a utopia– people will still struggle. But maybe there’s something about that struggle that’s different. Maybe describing paradise’s problems can give us perspective on our own.
  • A useful quote from the editors of Octavia’s Brood, an anthology of visionary fiction: “Whenever we try to envision a world without war, without violence, without prisons, without capitalism, we are engaging in an exercise of speculative fiction. Organizers and activists struggle tirelessly to create and envision another world, or many other worlds, just as science fiction does… so what better venue for organizers to explore their work than through writing original science fiction stories?”

5. How can radical, progressive, anti-authoritarian art subvert expectations? How can it be funnier, or weirder, or more adventurous?

This one is maybe a little more general. I’m just wondering about the possibilities in humor, in sci-fi and fantasy, in pushing the boundaries of how “political art” has come to be understood. Especially in slam poetry (just as an example), we all already know what a political slam poem sounds like. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with that, either; sometimes, the best approach is direct: the serious call-to-action, the powerful exploration of an issue. But because those expectations exist, there is opportunity in subverting them. How can the previous four points here be explored via outside-the-box, off-the-wall approaches? A few thoughts:

  • Humor is, of course, tricky. There’s a danger in making light of serious issues. I’d always recommend getting feedback on “funny” poems before sharing them with the world. But when it’s done well, it’s so powerful. I’m thinking of this “All Lives Matter” poem, or “Dinosaurs in the Hood,” or the incredible “Pigeon Man” (which, I would argue, opens with some humor but is actually not supposed to be a funny poem, even though the audience keeps laughing– again, humor can be risky).
  • It’s been useful to me to think of political art on a spectrum: on one side, there’s work that’s so blunt, so straightforward, that it’s just kind of boring. On the other side, there’s work that’s so ultra-adventurous and boundary-pushing that it’s completely opaque; if people don’t get it, they won’t be moved by it. But there’s lots of room in the middle. It can be helpful to think about who the audience is for a particular piece, and what we’d like them to walk away with. But that’s a whole other post.

I hope there’s something here that can be generative or useful. This is definitely a challenge to myself, more than it is for anyone else. But please feel free to share if you end up writing something.

A few other links/resources people may be interested in:

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Update: lots of new eyes on this piece because it’s the source of the sample in Fred Again’s beautiful “Kyle (I Found You)” …yes, I’m Kyle. Check out more of my poems, songs, and beyond all over this website.

“Ours is not a love song sprouted from redemption, hope, or even longing…  but it is a love song. Sing it under your breath. Sharpen it, every morning.”

This is an older poem of mine (it’s available along with many others in my book); those of you who know my work may know: it’s gone through three different titles. I like this one the best; I also like this footage/performance better than older ones.

It’s a love poem, and yeah it’s kind of a weird love poem, but it’s a poem that’s always meant a lot to me. I think love poems are great opportunities to dig into some of the nuances of our emotions; there’s longing and romance in this poem, but there’s also fatalism and cynicism; those impulses can exist at the same time. To me, some of the most “anthemic,” soul-stirring media is about deeply cynical people maybe finding hope not in external possibilities or heroes, but just in each other; that us-against-the-world impulse.

Not to get too word-nerdy, but I also love the word “undeath.” I think it communicates something powerful not just about vampires and zombies,  but about in-between spaces, about states of being that move over borders and transcend easy, black-and-white dichotomies.

I hope you like it; please feel free to share. Here’s the transcript; I share it here for accessibility’s sake, but of course, if you like, please consider getting my book.

Continue reading “New Video: “Love in the Time of Undeath” via Button Poetry”