About a month ago I read this piece during the open mic section of The Kentucky Great Writers Series, at the Carnegie Center. They were featuring Nikky Finney, Bobbie Ann Mason, and Ed McClanahan. It was the first time I had read in front of 200 strangers. Then it became the first time people I don't know approach me to say how much they liked it. The reception for it was way more than I could have expected. I mean these people came to see Big Deal Writers. But the kicker was when before Ed McClanahan started his reading, he talks about my piece. Taking time out of his reading to mention a specific line from mine, he calls me a little bastard for stealing his dance moves. So here it is:####
Greg’s White Poem
12.11.10
Man, let me tell you a secret
come close, real close, like
you can feel the moisture of
my breath on your ear close.
You ready?
I’m white, really really white.
Not rebel flag wearing,
my great-great-grandpapay fought
for the south white;
(although he probably did.)
not white, red, orange, yellow, black, mulatto, that white;
I’m whiter than that even,
the believes he’s post-racial white,
deep seeded whiteness,
like wonder bread is my cousin white.
Pacific Northwest raised,
can’t-burn-in-the-sun white.
Spend four days in Florida and not change shades white;
so white, my friends tell me how white I am.
That zero-ethnicity, blank slate American white;
the you-can-trace-my-family-to-1600s-Pennsylvania white.
So white I get embarrassed at Victor Wooten concerts
when other whites yell “slap that bass” or “preach it Victor”;
so white all I see of my mixed cousin is our blood.
The I don’t understand racism white;
Yes We Can, Barack Obama voting white.
The watches foreign films in theaters alone white,
spends weekends hiking white.
The kind of white that thinks we’re all born equal,
regardless that we’re not, in a land of opportunity;
you can grow to be anything hopeless optimism white.
Jack Kerouac, Henry Rollins, Hermann Hesse reading white.
The I’ve kissed black girls, held their single-parent-infants
like it was my own white.
Unabashed nothing’s gonna change my world white.
watches ducks at the ferry on hot summer evenings white.
So white my iPod shuffles from Philip Glass to
Miles Davis to Katy Perry to Foo Fighters to
Bill Withers to Deftones to Stanley Clarke to
Mahavishnu Orchestra to Radiohead.
I can camouflage in snow naked white.
can’t stop laughing at the Chapelle’s Show white.
Can’t eat enough yams, coleslaw, Chicken Lo Mein, Pepper Karahi,
Falafel & Hummus white.
Has a poster of Che Guevara on my ceiling white.
Wears Chuck Taylor’s until they fall off my feet,
shops at Goodwill white.
So white I attended a George Clinton & the P-Funk Allstars concert
and danced like a white person, you know the dance,
the two step, bob head, flail arms, arbitrary knee bending white dance.
Just trying to get through the day and not offend anyone white.
So white I can’t even count how many cultures I’m stealing from today.
Went through a Pink Floyd and The Beatles phase white.
I’m a self loathing white
who can’t stop getting whiter.
White White White White White White White
By definition,
I am white
By definition,
I am the absence of color.
By definition,
I am a reflection of all colors.
(photo by Zannah Reed)
The Twenty class of 2011 is showcased in pluck! The Affrilachian Journal of Arts and Culture Issue 7. Featuring essays by Nikky Finney, Chaney Williams, and poems by, Greg Smith, Stephen Rodriguez, Deri Pryor, Sosha Pinson, Chungyen Chang, Holly Mitchell, and a photo essay by Hendrick Floyd!