In the late 1980s I remember regularly watching on television a ½ hour arts program produced in Minneapolis, MN known as “Alive from Off Center.” The program featured a wide range of artistic productions, not always in their entirety, that included the spoken word, music, dance and theatrical pieces of performance art. I think of this arts program now when I recall Black poet, Amiri Baraka (aka LeRoi Jones), who ultimately proved to be way too left of center while functioning as the Poet Laureate of New Jersey. Born and raised in Newark, NJ, Mr. Barack died last month at the age of 79. It was after 9/11 when Baraka wrote what some consider an incendiary poem (entitled “Somebody Blew Up America”) about the events of that day that his title of Poet Laureate of NJ was taken away from him in 2004. I offer here an earlier poem written in 1961 by Mr. Baraka (under his former name, LeRoi Jones) that depicts this man’s unique sensibility.
My wife is left-handed.
which implies a fierce de-
termination. A complete other
worldliness. IT’S WEIRD, BABY.
The way some folks
are always trying to be
different. A sin & a shame.
But then, she’s been a bohemian
all of her life. . . black stockings
refusing to take orders. I sit
patiently, trying to tell her
whats right. TAKE THAT DAMN
PENCIL OUTTA THAT HAND. YOU’RE
RITING BACKWARDS. & such. but
to no avail. & it shows
in her work. Left-handed coffee,
Left-handed eggs; when she comes
in at night. . . it’s her left hand
offered for me to kiss. Damn.
& now her belly droops over the seat.
They say it’s a child. But
I ain’t quite so sure.
–LeRoi Jones (from: Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note, Baraka’s first book of published poems, 1961)