Avery R. Young – FOUR WAY REVIEW

THREE POEMS by avery r. young

Tuesday, 04 August 2015 by avery r. young

new testament

in temple

mudda: boy!!!!!!!

gonna make my hair fall

                             worryin if yo life
                             still on dis side
                             of groun(d)

us been three day(s)
lookin fo u

                             u in herr
                             runnin
                             yo mouf

hey-zeus:          dunno y
                             u worryin
                             bout me

u know
whatchu had me fo

                             i handlin
                             my father
                             bidness

mudda: my God!!!!!

ii.

at wedding

hey-zeus: woman!!!
i aint no magician

mudda:              boy
                             u aint gotta tell me
                             what thou art

i know who
u come from

but
u came outta Me

i say we need wine
& de angel already tol(d) me

                             how u gotta do
                             now
                             ax yo daddy
                             fo summa dat joo-joo

                             & see if him work(s)
                             like him say
                             him do

iii.

at table | after cross

mudda: God.

                             u aint tell me
                             him wud bleed
                             like dat

. dam(n)

god:

iv.

cabin in sky

mudda: after
dey kill(t) u

                             folk wud snatch
                             life from mudda(s)
                             in prayer

                             & soil de mudda(s)
                             in dey own crimson
                             & scream(s)
                             & de mudda(s) wud
                             tell dem no
                             & dont
                             in front of my baby(s)

                             but
                             dey wud take de mudda(s)
                             & de baby(s) too

                             & de men who knew
                             what yo face look(d) like
                             in de dark
                             enuf to kiss it

hey-zeus

                             dontchu know how many
                             commere wif yo name
                             in dey throat

                             dontchu remember
                             de one time
                             u open(d) de sky
                             & u ax(d) dat one
                             muddafukka
                             y him yo electric chair

                             dontchu remember how
                             u change(d) him name
                             & way him sword flew

open de sky
now!

open it!!!

& snatch de evil
from dey palm(s)

turn deez muddafukka(s) paul
hey-zeus

turn dem all

little red
fo Toni

& when him come mandingo buc(k)
all greasy & blue in de hush

of her befo her give him a piece
of summa dat blow

a min(d) | her tell him
some man rape(d)

some woman her kin to
somewhere one day

& ran saffron
up & down

her | her tell him
her blk not almos(t)

white | her tell him
dem be razor(s) not roller(s)

curlin her hair
her tell him her aint a prize

wif a pussy
her tell him

her pussy de prize
her tell him

her need him to be
a winner | her tell him

him has no option
to lose

status 3
6.18.15

as far as i be concern(d)
dem n’em made jee-sus
de 1st transracial mudda- fukka | ever

blk!

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FWR Monthly: August 2015

Monday, 03 August 2015 by Four Way Review

The idea of voice has been hot on my mind lately. I think the ongoing work of folks like Amanda Johnston (one of the founders of Black Poets Speak Out), has made me think closely about how I move through the world, speak for myself, for and with others. Voice is subjective, relative. It’s also incredibly relational. Although I’m not a thousand percent behind Naomi Wolf’s talk of vocal fry, I know well the phenomenon of adapting one’s voice to suit one’s audience. The question is, then, from which conventions and collectives does one draw? And why? A writer performs on the page for a hypothetical audience, introducing herself to strangers again and again. Whatever voice that writer inhabits at any given time should be considered and relevant, and it should always feel true.

Since this is my first monthly curation of Four Way Review, the theme feels apt. As editors, we think about our own voices, our voices in conjunction with other editors’, and how the pieces we celebrate reflect upon us. Last month, Ken Chen, Executive Director of the phenomenal Asian American Writers Workshop, wrote an article excoriating certain white artists whose so-called transgressive work does little more than parrot the language of violence, racism, and patriarchy. Another recent editorial at Apogee raises the idea that it is as impossible – and unethical – to “read blind” as an editor as it is to be colorblind in the way we engage with each other in the flesh.

Here’s my secret: I was a little tempted to name this issue The Anti-Rachel Dolezal Life & Times, for the sake of those of us who have worked very hard to be ourselves, to own where we come from, and to make art from that space. The aforementioned – now-infamous – identity thief, who has worked with visual media in the past, was, unsurprisingly, once accused of plagiarizing a landscape by another painter. The appropriation of style, voice, and culture all converge so neatly in her story, it’s remarkable.

With all of this roiling in my head, I found myself, more than anything, wanting to read gorgeous, powerful voice. Just that. Inventive, not necessarily confessional, but representative of the artist in an elemental, charged way. When I started feeling tired of tired voices, avery r. young and Juliana Delgado Lopera came to my mind immediately, as the balm I wanted and needed most.

I bet you’re going to like reading these folks. Their styles are very different: young’s work boasts spareness and abbreviation, often using the architecture of parentheses to slow the reader, to encourage and reward re-reading. Lopera’s narrator, on the other hand, has fluidity and grace that’s enviable. Both are immediate. Neither backs down.

It wasn’t planned, but I don’t find it at all surprising that, in young’s suite of poems and Lopera’s excerpt, both use Christianity as a springboard for their characters’ voices. Owning one’s voice often comes from looking directly at structures of power, the stories we as a culture swear by. I think it’s important to reclaim power this way. And maybe it seems naïve, but I feel the connection between the art we make and support and the way we engage each other in the world is very real. These two artists are doing the good work.

~ Laura Swearingen-Steadwell
Poetry Editor