The Ongoing Relevance of Reuben Jackson's "For Trayvon Martin"
The tragic death of Trayvon Martin is as relevant today as it was in 2012 as is Reuben's most anthologized poem "For Trayvon Martin."
In Reuben Jackson's reimagining of the night Trayvon Martin was murdered, Jackson cast himself as the boy's guardian angel, leading him home and out of harm's way.
Instead of sleeping—
I walk with him from the store.
No Skittles, thank you.
We do not talk much—
Sneakers crossing the courtyard.
Humid Southern night.
We shake hands and hug—
Ancient, stoic tenderness.
I nod to the moon.
I’m so old school—
I hang till the latch clicks like.
An unloaded gun.
There is no wonder why the poem is Jackson's most anthologized. In "For Trayvon Martin" Jackson speaks for every black and brown parent and mentor, their frustration and their love, when they must sit their child down and explain to them what to wear, where to walk, and how to interact with police.
Recently, "For Trayvon Martin" has been popping up in numerous places concerned with the BLACKLIVESMATTER movement. In Tiffany Austin, Sequoia Maner, Emily Ruth Rutter, and Darlene Anita Scott's new anthology Revisiting the Elegy in the Black Lives Matter Era, Jackson's poem receives a prominent place, as it does in a recent open letter by the Vermont Humanities Council director Christopher Kaufman Ilstrup. Ilstrup writes:
"Arguably, these killings of Black citizens have never stopped, and many scholars have written about the history of violence from Reconstruction to today. But the modern era of this violence might be pegged to the shooting death of Trayvon Martin in 2012 by “neighborhood watch” member George Zimmerman. Trayvon was just seventeen, walking home from the store with a bag of Skittles. One of our dear friends at Vermont Humanities, poet and scholar Reuben Jackson, wrote a poem at that time that still hangs with me today."
"For Trayvon Martin" is a subtle, heart-breaking kind of angry poem. This anger is all the more relevant now as we watch--and participate in-- it finally bubbling over. As I write this, historic crowds gather in city and country streets demanding a world where Jackson doesn't need to be there to walk Trayvon home.
"For Trayvon Martin" appeared in Jackson's debut collection fingering the keys which is reprinted in full in his new collection Scattered Clouds. Support Reuben and ASP by buying Scattered Clouds from our bookstore.
Alan Squire Publishing will also be making a donation to the National Bail Fund's Rapid Response Fund because:
BLACK VOICES MATTER
Here is a list of Bail funds worth supporting: https://www.communityjusticeexchange.org/nbfn-directory
Remembering W.S. Merwin: Grace Cavalieri’s Two Interviews with the Literary Giant
In 2000, the bicentennial of the Library of Congress, four Poets Laureate were appointed just for the occasion. The four dignitaries were W.S. Merwin, Robert Pinsky, Rita Dove, and Louise Gluck. I was to record one after the other for 4 hours. That first meeting with Merwin was unforgettable, as he arrived for an hour interview without so much as one poem in his hands. Fortunately, I had brought ten books for his signature and we puzzled our way through. He was delighted to recognize some of his first slim published volumes that were out of print, as well as a few collector’s items.
Fiddlin’ Around in Ireland
Nothing buoys the spirits like a walk along Grafton Street. Gray day or sunny, it’s bright with noise and laughter. Loud “hellos,” babies crying, neighborly gossip, rich brogues and lilting Irish airs float up onto the breeze. Our chosen course allowed for a stroll through St. Stephen’s Green. Sunlight dappled the leafy brakes. Inspired by the moment, Lawrence liberated his fiddle and sawed out a hornpipe. He was joined in his performance by a pair of amorous ducks.
On Grafton street we were immediately surrounded by music. A couple of 9 and 10-year-old boys, Donald Reagon and Paul O’Neill, were delighting passersby with smooth moves on the fiddle and concertina. College students with shaved heads played sitars. Old men played jazz. A guitarist somewhere was plucking out George Harrison tunes and singing, “Here comes the sun, little darlin’ here comes the sun.”
On that musical street there was only one poet—a threadbare character who, for a pound or a punt (Irish pound) or nothing at all, would recite a poem by a poet of one’s choosing. I selected Yeats and was honored with “The Fiddler of Dooney”:
“When I play on my fiddle in Dooney, Folk dance like a wave of the sea . . .”
An Interview with Elizabeth Hazen, Baltimore Poet and Baker Award Finalist
Baltimore poet, Elizabeth Hazen’s first collection of poems is entitled Chaos Theories. Last week the young poet was announced as a finalists for the prestigious Baker Artist Award in literature. We sat down to talk with her about her experience in Baltimore as an artist and what programs like The Baker Awards mean to artists.