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Terrance Hayes

Terrance Hayes Quotes

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Famous Terrance Hayes Quotes

“The man was high yellow In public, afraid of himself, pretending his music Was material when in fact, it was the opposite: Like a breath that comes so quickly you know You’re breathing ether: either atmospheric And anonymous as the air against a window, Or indefinite & mute as a curtain of wind.”

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Book:American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin
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“I remember my sister’s last hoorah. She joined all the black people I’m tired of losing, All the dead from parts of Florida, Ferguson, Brooklyn, Charleston, Cleveland, Chicago, Baltimore, wherever the names alive are Like the names in graves. I am someone With a good memory & better imagination.”

DeathPoetryLossPoemMemoryRemembranceAfrican AmericansBlacks
Book:American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin
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“Possibly twilight makes blackness dangerous Darkness. Probably all my encounters Are existential jambalaya. Which is to say, A nigga can survive. Something happened In Sanford, something happened in Ferguson And Brooklyn & Charleston, something happened In Chicago & Cleveland & Baltimore & happens Almost everywhere in this country every day. Probably someone is prey in all of our encounters. You won't admit it. The names alive are like the names In graves.”

DeathPoetryPoemSurvivalAfrican AmericansBlacksBlack Lives Matter
Book:American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin
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“Glad someone shot deserved to be shot finally, George Wallace. After you send your basket of balms And berries for the girls the bomb buried in Birmingham, After you add your palms to the psalms & palm covered Caskets of the girls the bomb buried in Birmingham, I’ll muster a pinch of prayer for you. You are the blind Protagonist of a story that begins, “In my previous life My work involved returning runaway slaves to slavery,” And ends with the image of a black nurse pushing Your old ass in a wheelchair. Can you guess what black Folk passing empty cotton fields feel, George Wallace? I damn you with the opposite of that feeling. I keep thinking I’m confessing for the first time, the reason I fear you, And you keep asking why I’m telling this old story again.”

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Book:American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin
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“Even the most kindhearted white woman, Dragging herself through traffic with her nails On the wheel & her head in a chamber of black Modern American music may begin, almost Carelessly, to breathe n-words. Yes, even the most Bespectacled hallucination cruising the lanes Of America may find her tongue curls inward, Entangling her windpipe, her vents, toes & pedals When she drives alone. Even the most made up Layers of persona in a two- or four-door vehicle Sealed in a fountain of bass & black boys Chanting n-words may begin to chant inwardly Softly before she can catch herself. Of course, After that, what is inward, is absorbed.”

PoetryWomenRacismPoemsAfrican AmericansBlacksRace RelationsWhitesWhite WomenN Word
Book:American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin
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