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This One Time, In ‘Nam…. Yusef Komunyakaa. By Alex Ferrer and Gillian Barta. Introduction. Yusef komunyakaa is one of the most prevalent American poets alive today.
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This One Time, In ‘Nam… YusefKomunyakaa By Alex Ferrer and Gillian Barta
Introduction • Yusefkomunyakaa is one of the most prevalent American poets alive today
Background Information • Was largely shaped by his experiences in Vietnam and his child- hood • These became the main topics of his poems • He used poetry as an escape from his past
Biography • Born April 29th 1947 in Bogalusa, Louisiana • James William Brown • Oldest of 6 children • “Rustic and bucolic” childhood • Suffered racism (not allowed in library, KKK, racial violence, etc.)
Biography • Sent to Vietnam for war • Witnessed terrible events • Was sent back a changed man • Earned a bronze medal for his service
Biography • Graduated Magna cum Laude from the University of Colorado after his service (graduated in 1975, masters in 1978, and MFA at the University of California) • Now is a professor • Began to write poetry mainly about his experiences in Vietnam and after affects
Komunyakaa’s Style • Dark, gloomy, depressing • Futile tone • Uses tactile, kinesthetic, and visual imagery • Themes of battle and after battle (memorial) • Alludes to Vietnam often • Very political- tends to allude to people or issues today
Style • One stanza • Usually narratives • Never rhymes • 1st person • Enjambment • Personification is used throughout
We Never Know He danced with tall grass for a moment, like he was swaying with a woman. Our gun barrels glowed white-hot. When I got to him, a blue halo of flies had already claimed him. I pulled the crumbed photograph from his fingers. There's no other way to say this: I fell in love. The morning cleared again, except for a distant mortar & somewhere choppers taking off. I slid the wallet into his pocket & turned him over, so he wouldn't be kissing the ground. • .
Literary Criticism • “Surprises” • “Fresh and Intriguing” • “Writes like a jazz musician” • “Confronts uncomfortable truths” • “Exhibits a pessimistic outlook on life”
Literary Criticism • “Predictable” • “Tightly controlled format” • “Progressive and experimental” • “Powerful yet exquisitely sensitive” • “Evokes feelings of tenderness and hope”
We Agree • “Confronts uncomfortable truths” • “Powerful yet exquisitely sensitive” • “Evokes feelings of tenderness and hope”
Facing it My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite. I said I wouldn't, dammit: No tears. I'm stone. I'm flesh. My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night slanted against morning. I turn this way--the stone lets me go. I turn that way--I'm inside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial again, depending on the light to make a difference. I go down the 58,022 names, half-expecting to find my own in letters like smoke. . I touch the name Andrew Johnson; I see the booby trap's white flash. Names shimmer on a woman's blouse but when she walks away the names stay on the wall. Brushstrokes flash, a red bird's wings cutting across my stare. The sky. A plane in the sky. A white vet's image floats closer to me, then his pale eyes look through mine. I'm a window. He's lost his right arm inside the stone. In the black mirror a woman's trying to erase names: No, she's brushing a boy's hair.
We Disagree • “Predictable” • “Tightly controlled format” • “Exhibits a pessimistic outlook on life”
Fast breaks. Lay ups. With Mercury's Insignia on our sneakers, We outmaneuvered the footwork Of bad angels. Nothing but a hot Swish of strings like silk Ten feet out. In the roundhouse Labyrinth our bodies Created, we could almost Last forever, poised in midair Like storybook sea monsters. A high note hung there A long second. Off The rim. We'd corkscrew Up & dunk balls that exploded The skullcap of hope & good Intention. Bug-eyed, lanky, All hands & feet . . . sprung rhythm. We were metaphysical when girls Cheered on the sidelines. Tangled up in a falling, Muscles were a bright motor Double-flashing to the metal hoop Nailed to our oak. When Sonny Boy's mama died He played nonstop all day, so hard Our backboard splintered. Glistening with sweat, we jibed & rolled the ball off our Fingertips. Trouble Was there slapping a blackjack Against an open palm. Dribble, drive to the inside, feint, & glide like a sparrow hawk. Lay ups. Fast breaks. We had moves we didn't know We had. Our bodies spun On swivels of bone & faith, Through a lyric slipknot Of joy, & we knew we were Beautiful & dangerous. .
Where is he now? • In 1989, he married Mandy Sayer, lasting for 10 years • His new partner, ReetikaVazirani, killed herself and their child • After teaching at Indiana University and Princeton, he now teaches at New York University