LeBron James Channels Maya Angelou

(Screen-shot from Nikie "Lebron Rise" commercial)

Back in the day, I became accustomed to seeing young black women perform dramatic readings of Maya Angelou's poems "Still I Rise" and "Phenomenal" at pageants, talents shows, and church events. The poems and different performances of Angelou's pieces had become quite familiar to me.

But this past week while watching an NBA game, I encountered a new, unexpected presentation of Angelou's work.

There's a moment in this Nike commercial entitled "Rise" featuring LeBron James, where the basketball star reads lines from Maya Angelou's "Still I Rise." The commercial shows James raising a number of questions such as "what should I do?," "should I admit that I've made mistakes?," "should I really believe I ruined my legacy?"His questions are apparent responses to the controversy related to his move from the Cleveland Cavaliers to the Miami Heat.

At one point, he asks, "should I read you a soulful poem," and the scene shows him at a microphone, accompanied by someone tapping on an African drum, you know, cooled out (black) poetry set vibe. James then reads, "...shoot me with your words / You may cut me with your eyes, / But still, like air, I'll rise."

On some levels, I suppose there are some resonant links between Angelou's poem (about continuing to rise even though adversaries attack you with words and negative looks) and James's plight these days. At some point, I'll try to talk more on the subject. For now, it just seemed worth pointing out the presence of Angelou's work in a Nike commercial featuring "King James."

Rita Dove's American Smooth

Rita Dove. American Smooth: Poems. New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 2004.

In Rita Dove’s collection American Smooth, she infuses her poems with the rhythm of dance, sometimes meditating on the dances themselves or those who are found dancing, and other times addressing American history and culture, such as the treatment of black people who fought for their country despite its malicious treatment of them and the acceptance or praise of a certain kind of black person who entertains but does not threaten the status quo. Thus, Dove is able to waltz the reader into great depths, exposing the complexities and hypocrisies of America.

In the poem “Hattie McDaniel Arrives at the Coconut Grove,” Dove meditates on the actress who was the first African American to win an Oscar for her role as Mammy in Gone with the Wind. The speaker wonders “…what can she be / thinking of, striding into the ballroom / where no black face has ever showed itself / except above a serving tray?”

The poem contains biographical information about McDaniel, such as her many husbands and her famous parties, transforming the recognizable and one-dimensional Mammy of our memories into a living, breathing human being who uses the honor of the Oscar to reveal her own power by being late: “…It’s a long beautiful walk / into that flower-smothered standing ovation, / so go on / and make them wait.”

In “the Return of Lieutenant James Reese Europe,” Dove explores the complexities of black soldiers who fought in World War I. In the poem, the speaker has returned with his unit and is marching in a victory parade, looking at the faces of those who “didn’t want us when we left but we went / You didn’t want us coming back but here we are, / stepping right up white-faced Fifth Avenue in a phalanx / (no prancing, no showing of teeth, no swank).”

By looking at American history from the viewpoint of black soldiers, Dove reminds us of the hypocrisies of our past in which Blacks where disrespected and considered worthless even while they fought for the country that would just as soon abuse or disown them. These soldiers, having found victory abroad, refuse to perform for the whites upon their return, refuse to be the Sambo or Mammy that nurtures their racism, saving their joy and jubilation until they see their own friends and family who shout “Baby, Here Comes Your Daddy Now!”

[By Emily Phillips]

Redmond visits the Redmond Room

(Eugene B. Redmond at the EBR Reading Room, Oct. 25, 2010)

This past Monday, Eugene B. Redmond got a chance to stop by the Redmond Reading Room. Our new colleague, Candice Jackson, joined us as we looked over and discussed materials in the room.

It was Redmond's first time visiting the room since we've had the old metal bookshelves replaced with wooden ones and since we've organized the books and display panels on the shelves. He seemed pleased with the room's makeover.

Not long ago, the room now known as the Redmond Reading Room was used as just a storage space. During the early part of the summer, we began the process of transforming the area into a room that could showcase some of Redmond's books and photographs during the early part of the summer.

So far, the room has served as a reading area, a small performance space, and gallery for presenting a number of our black studies projects. The plan is to continue doing more.

Related posts:
"Runagate Runagate" performance at the EBR Reading Room
Performing Poetry in the EBR Reading Room
The EBR Reading Room
Black Theater at the EBR Reading Room
First Events in EBR Reading Room
The EBR Reading Room
Developing the Redmond Reading Room

Lucille Clifton's Voices

Lucille Clifton. Voices. Rochester, New York: BOA Editions LTD, 2008.

Lucille Clifton’s volume Voices is memorable if not haunting. Her subject is life itself: the objects which are collected in it and the episodes that are imprinted in our memories. Clifton gives voice to historical characters like Uncle Ben and Aunt Jemima and to the unspeakable acts which mark the evil and abnormal, like molestation and domestic violence.

The things which are silenced, either because the world does not see them (as they sit on grocery shelves) or because the world does not want to see them (because they remind us of the evil which exists at every turn), are granted selfhood, and as they are given life, the reader’s cannot be unchanged.

The reader has most likely seen an Uncle Ben’s rice box, but has he or she ever stopped to think of the name and image on the box? Clifton takes the image of Uncle Ben and gives him a voice as a slave working in a rice patty. Working in rice patties is extremely difficult, and he “worked as if born to it / thinking only now and then / of himself of the sun/ of afrika.” After reading Clifton’s poem, it is difficult to look at Uncle Ben’s rice box and not thinking of a slave working in a rice patty, dreaming of home.

In the poem “Dad” Clifton uses three brief stanzas to create the complex figure of a man who beats his wife, spends time in jail, and carries a list of white men’s names in his pocket. This rough man uses “…the raw potato / wrapped in his dress sock / … / for beating her / and leave no bruises.” At first, the man seems monstrous. But after reading the poem a few times, the reader is left with the sense that this man is violent because of his poverty, seen in his pocket of loose change, and the racial pressures that haunt him, like the list of white men’s names that he carries with him.

Does he beat his wife out of frustration with his own helplessness in the world? Does he carry bail money because he knows that when he is not beating his wife, he must fight someone else in order to release his anger? Does the list he carry remind him that it is only the white men who will “vouch” for him who have a real say in his world? At the end of the poem, Clifton writes “consider / he would say / the gods might / understand / a man like me.” Do the gods understand him because they know of his struggles, or because they themselves are given to fits of rage as complex characters of mythology? The poem raises these and other questions, revealing the depths and anguish of this fictional, but somehow representative, man.

[By Emily Phillips]

Related posts:
Lucille Clifton's Mercy
Allison Joseph's Voice
Rita Dove's Sonata Mulattica
Honorée Jeffers’s Outlandish Blues

Elizabeth Alexander’s “Praise Song for the Day”

Elizabeth Alexander’s Praise Song for the Day. St. Paul, Minnesota: Graywolf Press, 2009.

Written for President Barack Obama’s inauguration, “Praise Song for the Day” by poet Elizabeth Alexander is a remembrance of times past, an appreciation for the present, and, to invoke Obama’s phrasing, an affirmation of "hope" for the future. Alexander reminds her audience that the buildings which will become both office and home for Obama were built on the backs of slaves, and those men and women, along with many others in proceeding generations from then until now, have made Obama’s presidency a possibility and now a reality.

Thinking of the past, present, and future, Alexander writes the words: “We cross dirt roads and highways that mark / the will of some and then others, who said / I need to see what’s on the other side. / I know there’s something better down the road.” The building of roads mark the progress of our nation from coast to coast and from town to city, but it also reveals the American spirit to strive upward, to rise and rise again.

The symbolism is connected with Obama as at one time he could not have even voted in a Presidential election, and now, a Harvard Law graduate and U.S. Senator, he holds the highest office in our country and the most powerful position in the world. This progression leads the audience to appreciate the present while looking with hope to the future when even more barriers will be torn down and love, perhaps “the mightiest word" notes Alexander, will be shown to all citizens of both the United States and the world.

[By Emily Phillips]

Hair as Priority

We asked visitors at our style, politics, and black women @ siue exhibit to describe some of their style priorities, and one common answer we received was "hair." Check out some of their descriptions and responses:

The single thing that sets my fashion off is having something in my hair. It was something I grew up with and now it is a part of me. Without it, I feel incomplete.

I prioritize my hair. I keep my hair done at all times, and I enjoy doing others. My hair can express the way I feel.

When I wake up in the morning I think about my hair first. What am I going to do to it today, then my clothes and I’m ready to go!

I often think about my hair. The night before, I always think about how I want to wear my hair: straight or curly. It all depends on my mood.

My hair is what I prioritize most because I can change it to fit how I feel that day.

My hair. I don’t mix it up, but since it’s curly it does its own unique thing every day. And so I have to subdue it every morning!

My hair! I don’t like to walk around without my hair styled in some way, even if I style it myself. And cute earrings. They look good with my hairdos.

Priority 1: Hair. My hair is my thing.
Priority 2: Clothes and comfort. I’m way past being cute over comfort. My days of the “my feet hurt” walk are over.

Related posts:
Style, Fashion Priorities
Black Women and Style
Style, Politics, and Black Women @ SIUE
Brief Lesson about the Politics of Fashion

Kevin Young's "easy on the eyes" approach

You've probably already noticed the appearance of his poems if you've ever even glanced at his work. Still, it's worth noting that many of Kevin Young's poems are easy on the eyes. I'm talking the look of the poems on the page.

The point about the look of his poems on the page probably aren't deep for some super high-level poetry discussion, but it seems worth noting, even in passing. Some of my students were reading some of Young's poems with me today, and we were talking about a certain shift in our gaze we had after reading Robert Hayden, Gwendolyn Brooks, Margaret Walker, and several other poets.

We weren't talking about what poet was better and such. Our focus was on how the look of Young's poems on the page took us to a different place--somewhere other than where we had been in our looks at some of those previous poets.

Check out the first three stanzas of Young's "Black Cat Blues":

I showed up for jury duty—
turns out the one on trial was me.


Paid me for my time & still
I couldn't make bail.


Judge that showed up
was my ex-wife.

That poem, along with his "Dirty Deal Blues," his poem "Bereavement," and his "Slow Drag Blues" display those short lines and short stanzas that have become signature features of Young's approach to verse.

Sure, many poets write short lines, but few of the many we've read so far this semester utilize short stanzas at the frequency that Young does. You move from looking at several words packed together on a page by many of the other writers we've covered to the spacing and succinctness of Young's poems, and your eyes will recognize a particular ease.

Like various other things that are easy on the eyes, what you see as easy or simple might be deceptive. Which is to say, the little lines and stanzas on the pages of Young's poems might have hidden, multiple meanings.

Related posts:
Kevin Young's "Bereavement"

Harlem Zone & Emotional Struggles

In chapter 7 of Whatever It Takes, Paul Tough discusses experiences of students, tutors, and a director at the Promise Academy's after-school program. The director of the after-school program comes to realize that "many of the students had problems that seemed more emotional or psychological than they were academic or intellectual."

Beyond the "cognitive training," Tough notes, the development of "a personal connection" between tutors and students was a vital "magic ingredient" that could assist the young people succeed.

The issues raised by Tough in this chapter relate to a developing topic that we've been considering: how might we diversify our approaches to measuring intellectual or cognitive skills, since the conventional approaches seem inadequate? In this case, the tradition approaches to measuring "excellence" overlook the fact that some students, at least, could face various emotional challenges and lack the "personal connections" necessary to excel.

What d you think? How does the acknowledgment of emotional struggles or lack of personal connections in the lives of some of your fellow collegiate peers lead you to rethink approaches to measuring academic success?

Marilyn Nelson's Carver: A Life in Poems, Pt. 2

[By Emily Phillips] 
Marilyn Nelson Carver: A Life in Poems


Although Nelson’s collection of poems is intended to be an imaginative biography, I found myself so engaged by the text that I felt as if it were an autobiography, as if Carver and his friends and family were sitting across from me, telling me their stories. Thus, when the volume came to a close, I felt that I learned from Carver as his students once did.

In the poem entitled “Last Talk with Jim Hardwick: A ‘Found’ Poem,” Nelson writes in Carver’s voice that “When you get your grip/ on the last rung of the ladder/ and look over the wall/ as I am now doing,/ you don’t need their proofs:/ You see./ You know/ you will not die.” Indeed, although his physical body died on January 5, 1943, Carver’s legacy lives on, and his voice speaks to us in the pages of Nelson’s volume.

When the reader closes the back cover, he or she can enter the world reminded that “Beauty is commonplace/ as cheap as dirt.”

Related posts:
Marilyn Nelson's Carver: A Life in Poems, Pt. 1

Marilyn Nelson's Carver: A Life in Poems, Pt. 1

[By Emily Phillips] 
Marilyn Nelson Carver: A Life in Poems

Marilyn Nelson’s volume of poetry, Carver, illuminating the life of George Washington Carver is both beautiful and engaging. Her poems lovingly present the mind of the great inventor and teacher in addition to giving voice to those who knew him, loved him, or benefited from his generosity and genius.

For example, Nelson creates the voice of a loving foster mother, of a dedicated student, and of a once hopeless farmer who has finally yielded a good crop because of Carver’s suggestions. By portraying Carver himself and a multifarious cast of characters, Nelson is able to create a convincing portrait of Carver’s life and insight into his discoveries and faith.

Throughout the volume of poetry, Nelson emphasizes Carver’s faith in God and love of nature as the inspiration for his agricultural and self discoveries. The poem “Four a.m. in the Woods” reads “As shadows take shape, the curtains part/ for the length of time it takes to gasp,/ and behold, the purpose of his/ life dawns on him.” It is here that Nelson yokes Carver’s love of nature and of his fellow man, and those two great loves will form the framework of the remainder of his life in the text.

Even as he makes discoveries and creates products, it is Carver’s life purpose to aid fellow African Americans, descendants of slaves, which guide his decisions, such as giving away his formulas and recipes for free. His role as teacher and inventor will lead him to the Tuskegee Institute, where Nelson’s father will become one of the Tuskegee Airmen, thus inspiring this volume of poetry.

Related content:
Marilyn Nelson's Carver: A Life in Poems, Pt. 2

Style, Fashion Priorities

During the first day of our style, politics, and black women @ siue exhibit, we asked visitors about their stylistic and fashion priorities. We wanted to know: what single feature of your style, fashion, or self-presentation do you often prioritize or think about most? Why?

Here are a selection of their responses:

Earrings!!! After transitioning for 10 months, I did my big chop. I was no longer the light skinned girl with long hair so my earrings became a way of expressing my independence and creativity whether buying or making them know me by m earrings.

Ever since I was a little girl, I was taught that it is inappropriate for a woman to be without her earrings and everyday jewelry. In high school, I wore gold jewelry, and as I got older, I switched to pearls. They are classy and fit perfectly with most outfits. Due to this upbringing, I feel bare without my jewelry.

I often think about lip gloss the most because I want people to see my face rather than my body and focus on what it is I’m discussing.

I generally focus on my outfit. I want colors that complement one another but aren’t branded mainstream outfits people are old are in season. I wear what the weather and my needs require on a day-to-day basis.

My jewelry is my priority. I am defined by my Tibetan bracelets as they provide me with my daily connection to the Buddha.

For me…when I’m getting ready my jeans would have to be my first priority. It really matters how my jeans fit on me. Some jeans may be too tight or some may make me look thick.

My most important style accents are my shoes. It is interesting because I don’t really care about the rest of it. I think it’s really the only way I express my idea of fashion.

My “style” is an afterthought. My first priority is comfort. Comfort describes me. I’m laid back, easygoing, and down to earth. I dress how I feel.

I cannot imagine spending more than a minute to get dressed. But, being a guy, it isn’t high on my priority list. What’s in the closet is what’s in the closet.

When it comes to my style, my shirt and jeans matter most. I choose comfort over design, but when the design fits with both my comfort what I like I get this feeling of peace. My jeans are comfortable. When they get holes in them, I choose to keep them because I wore those holes into them, almost as a sign of respect.

I prioritize hats. I have to wear a hat everyday so before I go out I have to match up my clothes with the hat I want to wear.

I figure out what my shirt is going to be then go from there.

Related posts:
Black Women and Style
Style, Politics, and Black Women @ SIUE
Brief Lesson about the Politics of Fashion

Outliers & Cultural Legacies

In chapter 6 of Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell provides a discussion about cultural legacies. He opens with disturbing descriptions of how longstanding cultural patterns and beliefs influenced violent conflicts among generations of families in Kentucky during the 19th century.

The compelling research findings concerning long-term and deeply held values led Gladwell to the conclusion that

Cultural legacies are powerful forces. They have deep roots and long lives. They persist, generation after generation, virtually intact, even as the economic and social demographic conditions that spawned them have vanished, and they play such a role in directing attitudes and behavior that we cannot make sense of our world without them.

He goes on to note the possibilities of “taking cultural legacies seriously” in order to learn “why people succeed and how to make people better.”

It’s worth noting that highlighting cultural legacies can easily give way to problematic racial and gendered generalizations—generalizations we have necessarily been inclined to critique or avoid.

Having said that, how might taking cultural legacies seriously hurt or improve our understanding of high academic achievement at SIUE? That is to say, how would a concentrated focus on cultural legacies limit or enhance our view of those who succeed in college?

The Lessons of the Harlem Children's Zone, Pt. 1

We've been having an extended conversations about Paul Tough's book Whatever It Takes. We've covered issues related to education, disparity, class values, and poverty, to name a few topics.

So what important lessons have we learned? What idea from the first half of the book has been especially memorable and why?

Or, what important idea related to the Harlem Children's Zone would you want to bring more attention to? Why?

Black Women and Style

Have you ever wondered why black women, a group that comprises such a small portion (less than 8%) of SIUE’s student body, manage to hold such a sizable presence among the fashion-forward on campus?

For instance, how could Cassandra, this young sophomore here, mobilize over 200 young women to consider self-esteem and modeling? Or, how do we make sense of the silent nods of affirmation among the “naturals” when they pass each other on campus?

You thought the Cards vs. Cubs was something? Please. The real rivalry questions revolve around how young women from St. Louis, East St. Louis, and southern Illinois will mount a stylistic comeback against Chicagoans like Chay and Aiesha, whose fingernails and shoes, respectively, have given a serious advantage to the away team?

My black studies crew and I have wondered about these questions for some time now. Our style, politics, and black women @ siue project constitutes one effort, in a series of ongoing efforts, to pay close attention to the diverse verbal and non-verbal statements expressed by the sisters here at the university.

Tuesday, Oct 26, from 10 A.M. to 12:30 PM and then again on Wednesday, Oct. 27, from 1 - 3, we'll host a small mixed media exhibit on our research so far in the EBR Reading Room (Lovejoy Library, room 3003). Check it out.

Related posts:
Style, Politics, and Black Women @ SIUE
Brief Lesson about the Politics of Fashion

Brief Lesson about the Politics of Fashion

“You have to understand something Professor H,” the young sister is informing me, “they tend to view us black women in one of two ways.”

Technically speaking, she’s the student. I’m the professor. Right now though, she’s the one teaching; I’m the one taking notes.

“And what are those two ways,” I’m now asking eagerly.

“They tend to see black women as classy or ghetto. That’s it,” she’s saying. “You’re either classy or ghetto.”

“And so getting back to my initial question,” I’m wondering, “is that the reason you wear a classy necklace and earrings every single day?”

“Yep.”

“To help them figure out how they should categorize you,” I confirm.

“Exactly. I have to help them figure it out.”


Related posts:
Style, Politics, and Black Women @ SIUE
Black Women and Style

The Lessons of Outliers, Pt. 1

We've been having an extended conversations about Malcolmc Gladwell's book Outliers over the last several weeks. We've covered issues related to practical intelligence, the 10,000 hour rule, and accumulative advantage among other issues.

I'm curious about the lessons we've gained so far and topics that we need to further develop. What idea from the first half of the book has been especially memorable and why?

Or, what important idea related to outliers would you want to bring more attention to? Why?

Honorée Jeffers and Phillis Wheatley

Poet Honorée Jeffers recently published a series of 6 poems focusing on Phillis Wheatley on the online publication Common-place.

Since I started following Jeffers’s blog Phillis Remastered a while back, I waited and wondered how she might concentrate on Wheatley. Given my ongoing work on persona poems, I’m pleased to see that Jeffers adopts various persona to explore aspects of Wheatley’s life.

A broad range of black poets have utilized persona as a mode of writing to access the first-person perspectives of slaves and ex-slaves. Langston Hughes, Robert Hayden, Dudley Randall, Margaret Walker, and Lucille Clifton to name a few, have all written from the perspectives of slaves.

In recent decades, African American poets have done entire volumes or extended series of poems highlighting the inner thoughts of historically significant black figures or types. Off the top of my head, I’m thinking about volumes by folks like Rita Dove, Cornelius Eady, Tyehimba Jess, and Frank X. Walker. Now, Jeffers is adding to the mix in creative ways, and providing us with new opportunities to consider Phillis Wheatley.

On Common-place, you can also check read Jeffers’s statement of poetic research "Phillis Wheatley's Word" about how she approached her research and poems on Wheatley. Jeffers had first encountered Wheatley’s poetry during her undergrad years, and she returned to the poet’s writings years later with a greater appreciation for her artistic talents.

In 2009, Jeffers received a 2009 Baron Artist Fellowship from the American Antiquarian Society, which provided her with an opportunity to pursue concentrated research on Wheatley’s life and poetry. Jeffers initially planned for her research to yield a few poems on Wheatley, but what she now has is “a book-length project-in-progress entitled The Age of Phillis, which not only imagines Wheatley's life and times, but also the era of the American Revolution in Massachusetts.”

I’m looking forward to the eventual publication of Jeffers’s project.

Related posts:
Honorée Jeffers's Outlandish Blues

Honorée Jeffers’s Outlandish Blues

Outlandish Blues by Honorée Jeffers. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 2003

From the voice of a battered wife to that of a murdered gay white man, Honorée Fanonne Jeffers’s unrelenting Outlandish Blues haunts the reader with the accounts of people who would otherwise be silenced. The rhythm of the poems, with repeating, pleading lines and phrases taken from spirituals, adds an emotional dimension that might have been lost without the presence of musical accompaniment. Drawing on the Bible, newspapers, and individuals, Jeffers creates the voices of a diverse collection of men and women who are at last allowed to speak.

In “The Battered Blues (Four Movements)” Jeffers creates the voice of a victim of domestic violence, a woman who dreams of killing her “master.” Jeffers laces song lyrics like “I’ve been downhearted since the day we met” to emphasize the long suffering pain of the speaker who is trapped with her abuser. She explores the isolation of the woman as receives advice from a shrink, preacher, and her mother, none of which help her. This set of four movements is powerful in its ability to give voice to a victim who must weigh the benefits and consequences of murdering her lover who “You know he’s going to kill me / He’s going to stab me in my sleep / He’s going to send me back to God / and pray his soul to keep.”

In “Now with the Morning,” Jeffers reflects on the 1999 murder of white gay man Billy Jack Gaither at the hands of two other white men in Alabama. The poem begins “Last evening they were happy with my / black skin stripped from twigs / … / Now with the morning their pale / knuckles must speak in tongues on their brother’s skin.” Jeffers uses Gaither’s murder as a way of calling to mind the question of the sins of the father being visited on his children, remembering the violence done by white people towards black people and now seen as whites against their own “brothers,” asking her reader if this is not a kind of punishment for the past.

Her poem ends “…The Word behind them / stamped into cooked offerings.” Thus, Jeffers notes the Christian ideals of the white men who found in the Bible justification for their violence toward black people and now for their violence towards gays, leaving an offering for their God in the form of the beaten, burned body of Billy Jack Gaither.

[By Emily Phillips]

Related posts:
Honorée Jeffers and Phillis Wheatley

"Runagate Runagate" performance at the EBR Reading Room

Kathryn Bentley with drama students Sarah Goins, Sharana Turnage, Curtis Lewis

A few days after their first visit, Professor Kathryn Bentley returned to the Redmond Reading Room with a group of her students to record a choral reading of Robert Hayden's poem "Runagate Runagate."

I had read Hayden's poem for years, but experienced it anew when I heard the performance by Bentley and her crew. Here's an excerpt of their reading.

From Hayden's "Rungatate Runagate"

"Rise and go or fare you well

No more auction block for me

no more driver's lash for me 

 If you see my Pompey, 30 yrs of age, 

 new breeches, plain stockings, negro shoes; 

 if you see my Anna, likely young mulatto 

 branded E on the right cheek, R on the left, 

 catch them if you can and notify subscriber. 

 Catch them if you can, but it won't be easy. 

 They'll dart underground when you try to catch them, 

 plunge into quicksand, whirlpools, mazes, 

 turn into scorpions when you try to catch them.

And before I'll be a slave I'll be buried in my grave

Related posts: 

Black Theater at the EBR Reading Room 

Performing Poetry in the EBR Reading Room

Performing Poetry in the EBR Reading Room

Poet and student, Danielle Hall reading poem at the EBR Reading Room.

We're still pushing with various forms of presentation in the EBR Reading Room. Today, one of our visitors, Danielle Hall, agreed to read one of her poems during her visit at our exhibit.

I took out my audio recorder, and Danielle read her poem, "Lineage."