The Personhood Project Episode 30: Kathy Fagan

In this, the final episode of The Personhood Project, host Aaron Tyler Hand sits down with poet Kathy Fagan. Fagan is the author of six poetry collections, including Bad Hobby, Sycamore, and The Raft. In the episode, the two discuss how poetry is often felt before it’s understood, and how its music and mystery allow both readers and writers to access emotions and truths that ordinary language can’t reach. They also talk about the difficulty—and necessity—of confronting the past, why that work is “so worth the time and effort,” and how poetry creates space for claiming one’s place in the world.

Poems:

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Lights come on at 4:30 am

we drag our feet like zombies

groaning and moaning toward

our next meals.

Sometimes slop sometimes not

eating in a sleep like haze

we return to our beds

and try to fall back into

our dreams. Lights too

bright. Room too hot. Inmates

too loud. We curse and

sigh until finally we get

some fitful shuteye.

Brother Love

Love for brother, love for guards

Love for food I would discard

These are lessons, these are life

Learned from brother and from wife

In a jail they get their kicks

By abusing Jesus’ kids

Lie and steal and kidnap those

Who don’t fight, ‘cause God they chose

Jails have bullies, jails have thugs

Uniformed and not because

Break the law of man they do

And of God, the source of truth

Beat the system, I have tried

Taken a while to beat their lies

Meanwhile I will brother love

‘Til my savior Jesus comes.

Mornings in Jail

I wake up in my bunk with

The blanket on the floor. It’s not

The best morning waking up in jail,

Until i make my cup of coffee.

My Cup

My cup runneth over

My eyewitness pries

Sometimes in the shower

Spray mixes my cries

With noise all recorded

Forced evidence used

Against the will now or

You’ll by guards be bruised

The heel of my savior

Who severed the head

Of evil, who watches

And wishes us dead

A happy life? Prison

He gives us to test

Our faith and commitment

Our love for God’s best.

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Good morning, I said to my elegant friend

and he said money no eye. Smells of stale coffee

linger in the cabin of the work truck. Passing around

breakfast tacos made at home to break our fast before

we arrive at the job sight. The sun reaches over the horizon

to warm the way of the day. Birds making their calls as

we wait at the red light. Feels like it’s going to be a hot

day, a day hotter than a hoochie coochie. Errrrrr bump crash.

All we see in front of us is a mournful sight. We jump out

to help the trapped in a collision. Smells of motor smoke and

burnt tires. Vomit tastes from the sight. Will I forget

what I seen? Would you?

Despertarme

Dreams

Like steam

Evaporating from atop a kettle.

A weak stream of fabricated memories fade

Soon to be lost into the ether of unconsciousness

Smashing into the ConCrete blocks

Of my new found waking reality

Sooner still conscious thought begins

It’s merciless grip

As do the pains of improper posture

From slumber on mat’s too thin

My beck cries first, my bladder cries louder

I realize my needs … few

I actualize my wants … endless

I pray for peace, I pray from strength

To start another day

To start another day

Is proof enough

I should continue to do it again tomorrow

SHould I continue to do it again tomorrow?

I suppose I must if I’m lucky enough

To avoid the void

Of the endless

Dreams

Risks

Everyone warned me about risk

All my life I’ve been sheltered from pain

Blinded from the thrill of risk.

The rush you feel when doing the unknown

Jumping off a tall mountain on a foggy morning

Not able to see the bottom

Swimming in the middle of the sea,

Having no idea what underneath

A blindfolded man inside a maze

Covered in thorns

Or

Falling in love

There’s no limits when it comes to love

Trusting someone with everything

Thirsty for all their attention

When I met you…

I’d jump off any mountain to be with you

Swim in any sea just to see you

Even go through any maze

Blindfolded to just feel you.

I took a risk that changed my life

By falling in love with you.

Segregation

Separation, isolation

Different words, but same

Once this country

Was a place for

Freedom many came

In a jail for many months

Accused with

Harmful lies

Isolated, segregated -

Viewed with spying eyes.

In a dungeon

Wet and musty

Clothes will never dry

Laundry in the shower

Time to think and

Time to cry

The weeping soaked the mattress

But my trust in god stayed firm

Until the isolation took its

Toll and made me yearn

For peace of death, for sweet repose

An end to solitude

God said the man to be alone

Is almost never good.