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The Future of Black: Afrofuturism, Black Comics, and Superhero Poetry
The expansion of Marvel and DC Comics’ characters such as Black Panther, Luke Cage, and Black Lightning in film and on television has created a proliferation of poetry in this genre―receiving wide literary and popular attention.
This groundbreaking collection highlights work from poets who have written verse within this growing tradition, including Terrance Hayes, Lucille Clifton, Gill Scott-Heron, A. Van Jordan, Glenis Redmond, Tracy K. Smith, Teri Ellen Cross Davis, Joshua Bennett, Douglas Kearney, Tara Betts, Frank X Walker, Tyree Daye, and others. In addition, the anthology also features the work of artists such as John Jennings and Najee Dorsey, showcasing their interpretations of superheroes, Black comic characters, Afrofuturistic images from the African diaspora.
This groundbreaking collection highlights work from poets who have written verse within this growing tradition, including Terrance Hayes, Lucille Clifton, Gill Scott-Heron, A. Van Jordan, Glenis Redmond, Tracy K. Smith, Teri Ellen Cross Davis, Joshua Bennett, Douglas Kearney, Tara Betts, Frank X Walker, Tyree Daye, and others. In addition, the anthology also features the work of artists such as John Jennings and Najee Dorsey, showcasing their interpretations of superheroes, Black comic characters, Afrofuturistic images from the African diaspora.
- GenresPoetryNonfiction
210 pages, Paperback
Published November 2, 2021
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
March 22, 2022
I received a copy of this book through a Goodreads giveaway. (Thank you, Blair Publishing, and all the artists involved!)
Like the editors and artists in this book, I also grew up on comic books and superheroes. I knew how I experienced these stories, not realizing that a POC could have a completely different relationship with them. I was shocked at my ignorance. The poems within it are amazing: powerful, poignant, and heart breaking. The artwork is rich and moving. This is a book to be read more than once, to really see what the poems are trying to convey. I look forward to it, and to reading more works by these incredible poets. I highly recommend this book to others.
Like the editors and artists in this book, I also grew up on comic books and superheroes. I knew how I experienced these stories, not realizing that a POC could have a completely different relationship with them. I was shocked at my ignorance. The poems within it are amazing: powerful, poignant, and heart breaking. The artwork is rich and moving. This is a book to be read more than once, to really see what the poems are trying to convey. I look forward to it, and to reading more works by these incredible poets. I highly recommend this book to others.
November 14, 2021
The wide span of subjects and styles comes together to create a powerful, evocative work whose words and images linger; this is a timely, crucial contribution that ripples with energy.
February 7, 2023
Ah, once a man is loved or woman, they seek this ascension of more love as though an insistent spillage of power. But, to be so want and be bereft of knowing; no man is wholly hated no man is wholly loved is a heaven- it refreshes having knowledge of each palpable fluer, knowing whether you go there or else; there may be acceptance of not. To be black is not wholly to be hated nor wholly loved. To be human is a case of the same skin. It oft fills the well of my soul knowing one may never please all mankind; even if they ask of this in a begging alms it is not of realness. If the Buddha was not fully loved or if Jesus was not fully hated what can we ask of a tale of human nature?
Am i oddity or i?
I jested with Sam Saxx, does this bed look black enough? Does my hair have too many rivulets? For awhile I thought I was gay, then the fly buzzed and now all I remember in the echo of Flaubert was does a word still meaning be pressed acrid? If a fairy had flown through, is there a curtsy of anthema? I looked at my brown supple skin on the hand that shook me hard as though I were being reprimanded for god, and I saw the black man’s eyes hunger to say; o’ hoary is this the night of my dawning? When I play vixen i saw my favorite women being shewed to their homes. When krsna ushered gopis to the temple of field, one stayed because a door was locked onto her; apparently she died of greedy men- so too, i an odd bird crowed like a jambole but niegh cried for raison veritus. Is nightmare a jackel breathing on spilt milk or a Nurse dressing a wound for a dead soldier who’s been dead long into the wane and still peers into the sun tilted town feeding over histrionics. Was the castle ever stormed when a man dark in invasion lent his ear to the soul, and plucked history? Sitting like a tiara upon a brood as though they knew to listen. Soft peril some new grace. I spoke of town country and paced like a quack with his head removed sitting upon his palm, a twisting of grooves where a frenetic pattern of paths intertwined and a magic cuss or duende became me to mock. I lent thee the ear of my path and heard a jerk as though piston and soon a flare of solar shook Jesus; he mumbled slow in heat, ‘I need to clock out, I don’t really get paid overtime like that.’ Watch the man circles cemeteries smoking an eye. A patchwork tussled. And, so I wove a bray and thought should I be bridge of San Luis Rey or troll haunting interwebbed dawn- was I not oddity and the gold cast sun itself?- Harry Edgar Pope Angelus
Am i oddity or i?
I jested with Sam Saxx, does this bed look black enough? Does my hair have too many rivulets? For awhile I thought I was gay, then the fly buzzed and now all I remember in the echo of Flaubert was does a word still meaning be pressed acrid? If a fairy had flown through, is there a curtsy of anthema? I looked at my brown supple skin on the hand that shook me hard as though I were being reprimanded for god, and I saw the black man’s eyes hunger to say; o’ hoary is this the night of my dawning? When I play vixen i saw my favorite women being shewed to their homes. When krsna ushered gopis to the temple of field, one stayed because a door was locked onto her; apparently she died of greedy men- so too, i an odd bird crowed like a jambole but niegh cried for raison veritus. Is nightmare a jackel breathing on spilt milk or a Nurse dressing a wound for a dead soldier who’s been dead long into the wane and still peers into the sun tilted town feeding over histrionics. Was the castle ever stormed when a man dark in invasion lent his ear to the soul, and plucked history? Sitting like a tiara upon a brood as though they knew to listen. Soft peril some new grace. I spoke of town country and paced like a quack with his head removed sitting upon his palm, a twisting of grooves where a frenetic pattern of paths intertwined and a magic cuss or duende became me to mock. I lent thee the ear of my path and heard a jerk as though piston and soon a flare of solar shook Jesus; he mumbled slow in heat, ‘I need to clock out, I don’t really get paid overtime like that.’ Watch the man circles cemeteries smoking an eye. A patchwork tussled. And, so I wove a bray and thought should I be bridge of San Luis Rey or troll haunting interwebbed dawn- was I not oddity and the gold cast sun itself?- Harry Edgar Pope Angelus
February 2, 2022
First brush with afrofuturism—made me want to dig in deep to the genre
January 15, 2023
I absolutely need more poetry like this magnificent collection!!! Gods I seriously enjoyed reading this book!!
June 19, 2023
I'm not well-versed enough to get every reference, so thank goodness for Google. Rich poetry collection, brilliantly complied. An emotional read, for sure.
July 6, 2023
Amazing collection. Can't believe this existed and was at my local library!
July 22, 2024
It has some great stuff but it's mostly poetry and I have a difficult time processing poetry the same way I process narrative
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews