E version tidal basin review, winter 2015

I see the diversity within the work of my fellow poets, the wealth of stories, styles, and aesthetics. However, in the contemporary world of awards, fellowships and academia, the contemporary American poetry world is still pretty devoid of flavor.

T: To what extent would you say that black writers either are, or are not, invisible in the canon of American literature?

DWB: The poet and writer Ernesto Mercer uses the term “blacknesses” to make the point that blackness is not a monolithic thing. I interpreted that to mean that blackness is multihued. It’s made up of millions of distinct styles, stories. There’s no one way to be “Black.” I’d say the same thing for black writers as well.

As far as the canon of American literature is concerned, the black writers that are given more visibility are still few and far between and I think that folks have yet to see the multitude of “blacknesses” that black writers have been writing about, talking about, and living every day.

In the canon of American literature, there are black writers who the dominant white culture may be “aware” of, so I guess that’s an aspect of visibility. But like Ellison’s Invisible Man, the canon chooses to see who it wants to see.

This is a tough question because it makes me wonder about my own desire to be visible.

What matters more? That the folks and friends I consider my elders and contemporaries know that I have a voice worth listening to and acknowledge me as a writer? That I’m one of them? Or does it matter more that my book is holding its own on the New York Times bestseller list (poetry? Yeah right!)? Or that my name is being mentioned at the Paris Review?

I guess I’ll just say that we are here, been here, and will be here. We got multiple canons, too, that are important and we are struggling to direct our own literary destiny and build legacies our way, whether or not we are acknowledged in others’ canons or not.

T: Yes, on many fronts, yes. Amen and yes again to the fact that we are here, all of us are here and “will be here.” But, I wonder. What happens from here? Where does a fragmented American literature go, and more to the point of our struggles, where does a fragmented Black Literature go?

DWB: Dang. Tough question. This requires my inner visionary, pessimist and optimist to duke it out for space in my brain. I don’t know, so I’ll just kind of build as I go, so to speak.

As far as fragmented American Literature goes, I guess you got the stuff that is welcomed with open arms because it’s popular and fills the pockets of those with open arms and open hands. You got genres that supposedly, are less popular and, therefore, are pushed to the margins. I’m a big fan of comic books and fantasy and graphic novels and I know BROWN ∫ 19