In-Depth Look: Suzi Q Smith – “Bones”

In-Depth Look: Suzi Q Smith – “Bones”

Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.

“Bridges can be cages too; let them all burn.”

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Write-up by Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre


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Because my biggest poem is a “number poem,” people often ask about that approach with regards to their own writing. In that question, though, there’s often a hint of suspicion, as if poems built around numbered sections represent some kind of poetic cheat code, an easy way to sound deep without really justifying the structural conceit. And sure, that happens.

This poem, however, is a great example of how a number poem can work, and work beautifully. At its core, a number poem is a way to fragment an idea; to use a visual metaphor, I think of number poems as less photorealistic and more impressionistic. Rather than offer some big, authoritative thesis statement about a topic, you can build an idea out of smaller pieces; the substance of the poem is contained both in those pieces and in how those pieces relate to one another.

In this poem, the separation of the main idea into smaller sections allows Smith to deploy a whirlwind of concrete images– the fire, the tampons, the stitches, the gallbladder, the hurricane, the bones. Because the poem is already fragmented, those images get to stand on their own as they appear. That fragmentation also allows different sections to provide context for one another. For example: …when I was reminded to be humble, when I was taught to be polite, when I was raised to be a Christian, all forgiveness and long suffering, when I was beaten into being a good girl… connects the deeply personal to larger ideas about society and culture, expanding the “work” of the poem in a powerful way.

Find more from Suzi Q. Smith here.

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While you’re here, head over to the Button store to check out our books and merch, including books by Neil Hilborn, Olivia Gatwood, Hanif Abdurraqib, Donte Collins, Sabrina Benaim, Melissa Lozada-Oliva, William Evans, Guante, Rachel Wiley, & our newest release from Neil Hilborn!

In-Depth Look: Hieu Minh Nguyen – “The Translation of Grief”

In-Depth Look: Hieu Minh Nguyen – “The Translation of Grief”

Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.

“I throw a fistful of sand in the air and pretend to weep.”

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Write-up by Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre


Get Guante’s Book Here
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I started writing down lines from this poem that could be used as a jumping-off point to begin to explore its central idea, but I ended up writing down just about the entire poem. And maybe that’s the lesson for aspiring poets– know what work the poem is trying to do, and make sure every line– every word– contributes in a meaningful way to that work.

A room has four walls (if that); it doesn’t need five or six or seven. That can take a lifetime to figure out, if it can be “figured out” at all, but this poem from Hieu Minh Nguyen is a brilliant example of what that kind of efficiency can look like. Note how every line is a complete thought, but how every thought also functions as a transition to the next thought. Take a closer look at the third quarter (or so) of the poem:

I anticipate this grief by exhausting it with music. I open the casket; I make her dance in the center. It is the habit of the artist to see a hole and fill it with imagination. It is the habit of the living to see everyone you love and imagine them dead. I can lick the dirt off of all of your faces. I can sing any dirge, in any key, but the translation of grief will always be flat. There will always be the contrasting light between what is expected, and what would change your bones.

The sound, the light, the taste, the movement in these lines– the sensory/concrete language is so full without being overwhelming. Each one of those lines could work on their own, as a shareable Instagram quote, or as a tattoo. But together, they flow elegantly into one another, a series of images building momentum and intensity, leading up to the poem’s final image of the single black strand of hair.

That’s all shop talk, poetry stuff. But this poem also pushes boundaries with regards to substance, exploring something profound, unsettling, and important about grief, about mortality, and about translation– both in terms of the “translating her life into English” line, and the deeper process of how we translate other people’s lives/deaths into our own grief– selfishly, imperfectly, inescapably.

Find more from Hieu Minh Nguyen (including info on his NEW book) here!

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While you’re here, head over to the Button store to check out our books and merch, including books by Neil Hilborn, Olivia Gatwood, Hanif Abdurraqib, Donte Collins, Sabrina Benaim, Melissa Lozada-Oliva, William Evans, Guante, Rachel Wiley, & our newest release from Neil Hilborn!

In-Depth Look: Ashaki Jackson – “The Public is Generally Self taught and Uninformed”

In-Depth Look: Ashaki Jackson – “The Public is Generally Self taught and Uninformed”

Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.

“Sometimes there is silence after a video is released. You want to describe it as grief, or disbelief, or trauma.”

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Write-up by Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre


Get Guante’s Book Here
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In addition to being a poet, Ashaki M. Jackson, Ph.D., is also a social psychologist. That feels relevant when experiencing this poem, which does so much with so few words. Note how the poem is written in second-person, but that the “you” feels alive in its specificity. At first, it feels perhaps self-incriminating, exploring the reflexive thoughts that many of us have when reading about another injustice. But as the poem goes on, it moves from the universal to something a bit more focused, which brings everything back to the title. This is a poem that has something specific to say– not just about media and information, but about the specific issue of police violence and its roots in US history.

The poem is also a powerful crystallization of an idea that I’ve found more and more friends and colleagues (in poetry, academia, and beyond) discussing lately– how hungry we are for hot-takes, and how difficult it can be to get a more nuanced, multi-layered idea to catch fire and go viral. When excavating the whole truth requires that we “consider the history of policing in a chattel system” (explored in books and articles like this), are we really willing to do that, or will we be content with incomplete truths?

Find more from Ashaki Jackson here.

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While you’re here on our site, make sure to check out our books and merchandise in the Button Store, including Guante’s own book, as well as titles by Danez Smith, Neil Hilborn, Donte Collins, Sabrina Benaim, Melissa Lozada-Oliva, William Evans, Rudy Francisco, Stevie Edwards, Claire Schwartz, Guante, & our newest release from Rachel Wiley!

In-Depth Look: Talia Young – “While My Love Sleeps I Cook Dinner”

In-Depth Look: Talia Young – “While My Love Sleeps I Cook Dinner”

Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.

“I call her love, as if she herself is love: something glowing and untouchable…”

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Write-up by Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre


Get Guante’s Book Here
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Note how this poem explores the big, universal idea/trope/archetype of the long distance relationship through some stunningly specific imagery. For example, we could do a deep dive into just this passage:

“I tell my friends: I’m moving to a new country, because I have already left Minneapolis entirely. What exists between us? A piano string. A cord strung between two cups. All the veins in my body pulled taut.”

That sequence of three images works so well because each one is concrete– something that isn’t just an idea or a concept, but that you can visualize, or imagine holding in your hand. But there’s another layer to the sequence: each concrete image also belongs to the same family of images: they’re all string-like structures that enable some form of communication. It’s one thing to think of some cool images; it’s something else to have those images be consistent and supportive of one another.

Finally, there’s the additional effect of the last of the three images being something fantastical– it’s still easy to visualize, but it’s also bizarre (in a good way) and evocative. That rhythm– example, example, fantastical example– powerfully reinforces what the line, and the poem as a whole, is trying to say about the relationship between love, distance, and technology.

The poem also includes lines like “Our love in the shaky hands of the wifi” and the climactic: “I imagine a room in which every text is preserved in its own carved wooden box; I imagine all of this is physical, somewhere.” Both of these lines say something profound not just about long distance relationships in a general sense, but about how those relationships work right now, in this historical moment. That impulse– to document the specificity of the actual experience rather than attempt to capture some storybook archetype of what we think that experience “should” look like– serves this poem so well.

Find more from Talia Young here and here.

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While you’re here on our site, make sure to check out our books and merchandise in the Button Store, including Guante’s own book, as well as titles by Danez Smith, Neil Hilborn, Donte Collins, Sabrina Benaim, Melissa Lozada-Oliva, William Evans, Rudy Francisco, Stevie Edwards, Claire Schwartz, & our newest release from Guante!

In-Depth Look: Carmen Gillespie – “The Blue Black Wet of Wood” (Motionpoems)

In-Depth Look: Carmen Gillespie – “The Blue Black Wet of Wood” (Motionpoems)

Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.

“But the distance outlines an edge where a house may have stood…”

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Write-up by Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre


Get Guante’s Book Here
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While the immediacy of live performance footage is a big part of why slam poetry has really taken off over the past few years, it’s important to remember that spoken word is a much more versatile, dynamic form, one that lends itself to a multitude of different contexts and approaches. I’m reminded of Marc Bamuthi Joseph’s unforgettable spoken word theater work, Ursula Rucker closing out so many Roots albums so powerfully, the lasting influence of Gil Scott-Heron, and so many other poets whose work intersects with music, dance, theater, or other media.

“The Blue Black Wet of Wood” is a short poem, compared to most of the poems on this channel, and lends itself to multiple readings/listens; note how the poem uses color (specifically blue and black), and the suggestive imagery and word choices that accompany that use. Interspersed with dialogue from an interview, as well as the evocative imagery of the video, we get to experience the poem in pieces, allowing each beautifully-crafted lyric phrase to really sink in. The impressionistic effect– the way that the poem, the interview, and the imagery build upon one another– speaks to the power and potential of cross-discipline collaboration and thinking beyond the slam stage.

Find more from Carmen Gillespie here.

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While you’re here on our site, make sure to check out our books and merchandise in the Button Store, including Guante’s own book, as well as titles by Danez Smith, Neil Hilborn, Donte Collins, Sabrina Benaim, Melissa Lozada-Oliva, William Evans, and our newest release from Rudy Francisco!

In-Depth Look: Mitcholos – “Cacophony”

In-Depth Look: Mitcholos – “Cacophony”

Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.

I need you to understand that this cacophony is the new language of my people.

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Write-up by Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

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I’m struck by this line near the end of the poem: “I don’t want you to apologize in English, or Canadian French; I want you to open your eyes.” As more and more events (including poetry slams and other spoken word events) adopt the practice of acknowledging the land and its original inhabitants, it feels like that line is an important addendum to that practice: it isn’t just about apologizing, or “acknowledging” colonialism and genocide; it’s about the more difficult work of taking a critical look at our everyday actions, our organizational practices, and beyond, to see how they either continue or interrupt that legacy.

The poem as a whole reflects this intentionality of thought, juxtaposing past and present, through the powerful image of the death of a color. What could be a challenging, abstract idea for a poem to build itself around is supported by wave after wave of concrete, narrative imagery– from the evocative use of the word “splatter,” to the family snapshots, to the video itself, which does interesting things with negative space and color.

Find more from Mitcholos here. Additionally, for people interested in the point about moving “beyond territorial acknowledgements,” here is some writing on that.

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While you’re here on our site, make sure to check out our books and merchandise in the Button Store, including Guante’s own book, as well as titles by Danez Smith, Neil Hilborn, Donte Collins, Sabrina Benaim, Melissa Lozada-Oliva, William Evans, and our newest release from Rudy Francisco!

In-Depth Look: Javon Johnson – “Baby Brother”

In-Depth Look: Javon Johnson – “Baby Brother””

Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.

“My masculinity is a well-hung portrait in a hallway of a crumbling house.”
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Write-up by Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

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One of the most powerful things that poets do is attempt to view issues through the lens of relationships. As many of us are already aware, if we want to persuade an audience that our point-of-view about a particular issue is worthwhile, just rattling off the linear, logical arguments probably isn’t going to work (especially today). But if we can translate our argument into a story, particularly a story that orbits around personal relationships and the emotions that drive them, people might actually listen.

The first two-thirds of this poem only hint at its eventual thesis statement; through the exploration of a real, grounded, human relationship, Johnson provides context, brings the audience in, and sets the stage for the “here’s what I’m really talking about” section of the poem. And when that section comes, when Johnson really dives into how children are socialized to think about masculinity and the damage that that does, it’s all the more powerful for not just appearing from the void– we already care about the people touched by it.

For people interested in this topic, two links: One is a short poem by Nayyirah Waheed, and the other is a longer talk from Tony Porter, co-founder of A Call to Men. Also, be sure to check out more of Javon Johnson’s work here.

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While you’re here on our site, make sure to check out our books and merchandise in the Button Store, including Guante’s own book, as well as titles by Aziza Barnes, Danez Smith, Neil Hilborn, Donte Collins, Sabrina Benaim, and our newest release from Melissa Lozada-Oliva.

In-Depth Look: Hanif Abdurraqib – “Watching A Fight At The New Haven Dog Park”

In-Depth Look: Hanif Abdurraqib – “Watching A Fight At The New Haven Dog Park”

Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.

“And I too, dress for the hell I want, and not the hell that is most likely coming.”
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Write-up by Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

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In school, I remember learning about metaphor, but it was always tied to learning about simile. Part of the “lesson” was being able to differentiate the two, and I think that because of that, a lot of us still tend to think about metaphor in an overly specific way. “It’s like a simile, but doesn’t use like.” We so often see metaphor as another tool in the toolbox, and not something more fundamental to the craft of poetry; less screwdriver or pliers, more hands.

As this poem demonstrates, metaphor is so much more than a one-line comparison between two images or ideas. It’s about world-building. It’s about how we interface with reality through the telling of stories, or the sharing of images. And because that process is messy, metaphors can be messy too– they’re not always perfectly-balanced equations. The swirling imagery in this poem– from the dogs, to their owners, to the memory of another fight, to the more concrete flashes of blood, teeth, and fists– it all pushes us deeper into the poem’s reality, closer to the nuanced point that Abdurraqib is making.

Find more of Hanif Abdurraqib’s work here!

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While you’re here on our site, make sure to check out our books and merchandise in the Button Store, including Guante’s own book, as well as titles by Aziza Barnes, Danez Smith, Neil Hilborn, Donte Collins, Sabrina Benaim, and our newest release from Melissa Lozada-Oliva.

In-Depth Look: Bianca Phipps – “Stay With Me”

In-Depth Look: Bianca Phipps – “Stay With Me”

Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.

“Somewhere in this coward’s mouth is a brave heart’s confession.”
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Write-up by Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre

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It’s possible to talk about what performance adds to a poem; but it’s also possible to talk about what it takes away. A poem on the page has a different (not better or worse, just different) set of tools to use to do the work that it wants to do. For example, page poets use line breaks and enjambment to create conversations between ideas, to shine different lights on words that may mean one thing in one context, and something very different in another. Seeing the words next to each other, seeing how the lines break, seeing how the poem “moves” on the page, is a different experience than listening to a poem.

While spoken word poems can still use juxtaposition and transitions to do some of that work, this poem takes it to another level. One can picture, while listening, where the lines might be breaking, and how the different ideas flow in and out of one another, mirroring the thought-stream of someone dealing with anxiety. It’s a powerful exploration of what a poem can do when its form, content, and delivery intertwine and work toward a common purpose.

For more from Bianca Phipps: Facebook | Twitter

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While you’re here on our site, make sure to check out our books and merchandise in the Button Store, including Guante’s own book, as well as titles by Aziza Barnes, Danez Smith, Neil Hilborn, Donte Collins, and our newest release from Sabrina Benaim.