Poesia Contemporânea

Morgan Parker
Danez Smith
 • 1987, em Highland, CA.
• Dueto de poesia com Angel
Morgan Parker Nafis (The Other Black Girl
Collective)
• Co-fundadora e co-curadora,
com Tommy Pico, do grupo
Poets With Attitude (PWA)
• Coleções de poesia: Other
People’s Comfort Keeps Me Up
at Night (2015); There Are More
Beautiful Things Than Beyoncé
(2017); Magical Negro (2019)
• Romance YA: Who Put This Song
On? (2019)
• http://www.morgan-
parker.com/
The President's Wife
Sometimes I wonder
Is Beyoncé who she says she is
Will I accidentally live forever
And be sentenced to smile at men
I wish were dead
Is loneliness cultural
Are lips true
Is a mother still a self
Do I glow in the dark
What if men are wrong
And English isn't sound blue isn't color
Eyes are the window to storm
Am I too transparent in this skirt suit
Is the skirt suit a social construct
What does money cost
Should I stop talking while the ocean
Takes California hot breath takes the capital
Will ritual outlast what visits
Sleeping daughters with bad words
What lets some girls grow warm and tall
The arms of their lovers
Are rich and imaginary like me
Is desire making me sick
Building in my organs like ammunition
Tiptoeing behind my eyes until
I'm digital I'm static
Is it called desire can it speak
What does beautiful cost do I afford it
Do I roll off the tongue
Is America going to be sick
Will fat kids inherit the earth
Will you untag me from that picture
Do you think I should cut my bangs
Do I have any friends
Do you believe in me
Should I go to sleep
Try again harder tomorrow
Try again harder tomorrow
Should I answer the phone
Who is it
Who want the world like it is
Spoke Baraka can you hear him now
Do you understand
Are calories and sitcoms
Here to make me sad
Am I a moon no one sees
Does my lipstick look okay
Am I growing tired
Of my alternative lifestyle
Or would I like a fresh glass
Is there something spectacular
In fallen trees ancient hieroglyphs
Hippie towns twentysomethings will they
Save us
Is it possible to disappear
What's it like to be the first anything
Who live on Wall Street
The first plantation
Who cut your nuts off
Who rape your ma
[…]
Who lynched your paWho killed Huey Newton, Fred Hampton,
Medgar Evers, Mikey Smith, Walter Rodney,
Was it the ones who tried to poison Fidel
Who tried to keep the Vietnamese Oppressed
Who put a price on Lenin's head
Who put the Jews in ovens,
and who helped them do it
Who said “America First”
[…]
Who make money from war
Who make dough from fear and lies
Who want the world like it is
Who want the world to be ruled by imperialism and national
oppression and terror violence, and hunger and poverty.
Danez Smith
https://www.yout
ube.com/watch?
v=CjBGZ0cj7E8

https://www.yout
ube.com/watch?
v=w-2EE0NxaQ
U
Danez Smith • 1989, St. Paul, MN.
• Obras: hands on ya
knees (2013); black
movie (2015); Insert
Boy (2014); Don't Call
Us Dead (2017); Homie
(2020).
• Membro fundador do
coletivo Dark Noise
Collective.
dinosaurs in the hood

let's make a movie called Dinosaurs in the Hood.

Jurassic Park meets Friday meets The Pursuit of Happyness.
there should be a scene where a little black boy is playing
with a toy dinosaur on the bus, then looks out the window
& sees the T. rex, because there has to be a T. rex.

don't let Tarantino direct this. in his version, the boy plays
with a gun, the metaphor: black boys toy with their own lives
the foreshadow to his end, the spitting image of his father.
nah, the kid has a plastic brontosaurus or triceratops
& this is his proof of magic or God or Santa. i want a scene
where a cop car gets pooped on by a pterodactyl, a scene
where the corner store turns into a battleground. don't let
the Wayans brothers in this movie. i don't want any racist shit
about Asian people or overused Latino stereotypes.
this movie is about a neighborhood of royal folks—

children of slaves & immigrants & addicts & exile—saving their town
from real ass dinosaurs. i don't want some cheesy, yet progressive
Hmong sexy hot dude hero with a funny, yet strong, commanding
Black girl buddy-cop film. this is not a vehicle for Will Smith
& Sofia Vergara. i want grandmas on the front porch taking out raptors
with guns they hid in walls & under mattresses. i want those little spitty
screamy dinosaurs. i want Cecily Tyson to make a speech, maybe two.
i want Viola Davis to save the city in the last scene with a black fist afro pick
through the last dinosaur's long, cold-blood neck. But this can't be
a black movie, this can't be a black movie. this movie can't be dismissed

because of its cast or its audience. this movie can't be metaphor

for black people & extinction. This movie can't be about race.
this movie can't be about black pain or cause black pain.
this movie can't be about a long history of having a long history with hurt.
this movie can't be about race. nobody can say nigga in this movie
who can't say it to my face in public. no chicken jokes in this movie.
no bullet holes in the heroes. & no one kills the black boy. & no one kills
the black boy. & no one kills the black boy. besides, the only reason
i want to make this is for the first scene anyway: little black boy
on the bus with his toy dinosaur, his eyes wide & endless

his dreams possible, pulsing, & right there.