West Hell

Sin, thy name is this
wait—this place—
a long ways from Here
to There, from where

last we were
in love, or lust, or not
even close. It's hot
most the year

& by noon this town shuts
doors, down, the bass
burrowing in the bot-
tom—even our mudfish

with nowheres to go.
The days dry as envy,
we trawl the shallows
& perfect our lies—

the morning's catch we could
have landed, the ladies
or mens jealousies
we wear as badge, avoid

not at all. How humid
the heart, its messy
rooms! We eat spicy
food, sweat like wood

& smolder like the coal
mine that caught fire
years ago, yet still smokes
more than my uncle

who will not quit—
or go out—

- Kevin Young

I chose to respond to this pair of art and poetry from our readings this week simply because it struck me as my favorite.  Kevin Young, who wrote a set of poems to go along with the "projections" of Romare Bearden really brought these pieces to life.  I love when I can look at a piece of art and hear sound, and with Young's blues-y style of poetry alongside Bearden's work, you can really begin to feel a rhythm.  When I read this poem out-loud, I find myself putting emphasis on the last word in each line (a good blues touch). Young writes in short phrases, breaking the line in odd places or creating space to force the reader to stop short and think about the different meanings that can be drawn sometimes from one phrase or sentence.  I am drawn in by the first two stanzas of this poem: 

Sin, thy name is this
wait—this place—
a long ways from Here
to There, from where

last we were
in love, or lust, or not
even close. It's hot
most the year

    I like how he creates an uncomfortable feeling, we start by reading the title, "West Hell" and then he begins talking about sin and lust and not quite knowing where we are, here? there? and then ending with the short statement, "It's hot", but he cleverly gives us a bit of relief in the last line, "most of the year", that "most" giving the reader some kind of reassurance that perhaps its not always so uncomfortable.  

Bearden's work fits this style of writing because you can see the choppiness and the disconnectedness in his collages.  Initially they may seem a bit strange and perhaps disconcerting, especially this one "Pittsburg Memory" where Bearden has created two faces, one large and looming towards the viewer, both looking confrontational and unashamed, as if saying to the viewer, "what are you looking at?".  After reading the poem and going back to the collage, you can almost feel the simmering heat of the summer and the resilience of the two characters, surviving and refusing to "go out" even in the hot humid surroundings.  

Howlin Wolf comes to mind:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0MIQHymToA&feature=related

This may be a little too upbeat for this art and poem, but it kind of goes along with the idea that there is the possiblity for that "most of the year" to subside for a minute to offer a bit of relief.  Plus its a great example of music and awesome illustration.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYk_dU4IWVg