Kwame Dawes Poems
- Talk For August Wilson No one quarrels here, ...
- The Glory Has Left the Temple for Gabriel García ...
- Land Ho I cannot speak the languages spoken in that ...
- African Postman for Soloman Ephraim Woolfe Son, who is ...
- Dirt I got one part of it. Sell them watermelons and get me ...
- Horns In every crowd, there is the one with horns, casually ...
- Coffee Break It was Christmastime, the balloons needed ...
Kwame Senu Neville Dawes (born 28 July 1962, Ghana) is a poet, actor, editor, critic, musician, and former Louis Frye Scudder Professor of Liberal Arts at the University of South Carolina. He is now Professor of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and editor-in-chief at the Prairie Schooner. New York-based Poets & Writers has named Dawes as a recipient of the 2011 Barnes & Noble Writers ... more »
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For August Wilson
No one quarrels here, no one has learned
the yell of discontent—instead, here in Sumter
we learn to grow silent, build a stone
of resolve, learn to nod, learn to close
in the flame of shame and anger
in our hearts, learn to petrify it so,
and the more we quiet our ire,
the heavier the stone; this alchemy
of concrete in the vein, the sludge
of affront, until even that will calcify
and the heart, at last, will stop,
unassailable, unmovable, adamant.
Find me a man who will stand
on a blasted hill and shout,