"NDN Homopoetics" by Billy-Ray Belcourt

View this email on a browser Forward to a friend January 31, 2019   NDN Homopoetics   Billy-Ray Belcourt

1. I hoard dirt in my ears; months later, I pull out a summer dress. The dress is not a dress to be worn but to be hung, like a flag on a wobbly pole that is noticed only when crowded in the mouths of those near it. The dress is not a dress to be worn but to be hung, like an NDN condemned to death by the judiciary of historical ignorance, an enactment of white fellowship and care. We all bear the dress, not as an article of clothing, but as an ontological imprint. To bear is not to wear, of course. To bear and to birth, however, are from the same neighborhood of experience. It is there, in the neighborhood of experience, that my childhood home is nowhere to be found. And so, my childhood home could be anything, even a dress made out of dirt.     2. Boy becomes a 3-D printing of a man. It brings me comfort to think of my gender as a farmer's field already rototilled, already cleaned up. I become less of who I am by the second. Look at the branches growing from my teeth! Then there's the mare, tipsy on me, grazing to no end. If I were to speak, I'd sound like a cracked windshield, typo-ridden. These 206 lonely bones have each gained a type of consciousness; they pretend not to harbor hard feelings about me, my ungodly molecularity. What can I say about my shadow? It loves the unlit street more than it does me. Sometimes a body is that which happens to you. Everyday, dime-sized holes proliferate on my flesh, as if I were trying to free myself from myself. I will go on like this forever: with the earth ringing in my chest.   3.   I am a body of knowledge, not one of chemical compounds. Which is to say that I live as ideas do. This is the fate of NDNs. It is on the rez that one can hear sentences speak as though in a chorus. To tear the page is to tear our world apart. What shame to be a sentence on its knees! The day I obtained my driver's license, I followed a cumulus cloud through a maze of dirt roads until it evaporated. Forty minutes. That was all it took. I bore witness. It did not ask this of me, but I wanted to keep watch of the dying everywhere, so I could figure out how to care for a bleeding sentence.   4.   What to an NDN is the intrinsic goodness of mankind? Maybe justice is a lover who regurgitates the English language so it comes back sweeter. Canada, why are your elevators filled with mud water? What is it about a palm that makes a country feel like a garden? I dug and dug. I pulled out a bouquet of skyscrapers. I kissed each window softly. Is this not what an NDN does in a poem?            Copyright © 2019 Billy-Ray Belcourt. Used with permission of the author. About This Poem   "'NDN Homopoetics' is part of an undertaking to articulate a poetics of freedom through queer indigeneity, while probing the social stakes of narrative today. It also came about from my interest in finding what is possible in the prose poem, using it to meld both emotion and theory." —Billy-Ray Belcourt   Billy-Ray Belcourt is from the Driftpile Cree Nation and the author of This Wound is a World (Frontenac House, 2017), winner of the Griffin Poetry Prize. He is a Pierre Elliott Trudeau Foundation Scholar at the University of Alberta and lives in Edmonton, Canada.   Poetry by Belcourt   This Wound is a World (Frontenac House, 2017) "The Blue Dress" by Saeed Jones "For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet" by Joy Harjo "Faggot Poetics" by Cameron Awkward-Rich January Guest Editor: TC Tolbert   Thanks to TC Tolbert, author of Gephyromania (Ahsahta Press, 2014), who curated Poem-a-Day for this month's weekdays. Read a Q&A with Tolbert about his curatorial approach this month and find out more about our guest editors for the year. Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit Poets.org.   You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click here.   © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038