Poetry is a process of getting back to the unconscious. Hence, I am always writing-even when I'm not facing the white space. I feel writers are like reservoirs of images. We take in what is around us. — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share Image
Poetry is a kind of distilled insinuation. It's a way of expanding and talking around an idea or a question. Sometimes, more actually gets said through such a technique than a full frontal assault, — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share Image
It took me 14 years to write poems about Vietnam. I had never thought about writing about it, and in a way I had… — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share Image
I see many black males grasping for some thread of hope. There are so many destructive practices, glimpses into a psychic abyss. That must… — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share Image
“Title: Blue Light Lounge Sutra For The Performance Poets At Harold Park Hotel the need gotta be so deep words can't answer simple questions all night long notes stumble off the tongue & color the air indigo so deep fragments of gut & flesh cling to the song you gotta get into it so deep salt crystalizes on eyelashes the… — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share
“Foolhearted mindreader, help us see how the heart begs, how fangs of opprobrium possess our eyes.” — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share Image
I like connecting the abstract to the concrete. There's a tension in that. I believe the reader or listener should be able to enter… — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share Image
Whoever said men hit harder when women are around, is right. Word for word, we beat the love out of each other. — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share Image
I think of my poems as personal and public at the same time. You could say they serve as psychological overlays. One fits on… — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share Image
“In the old days, the general's ribbons / & medals rainbowed across his chest, / & if he were interrogating himself, / by now,… — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share Image
Blue is the insides of something mysterious and lonely. I'd look at fish and birds, thinking the sky and water colored them. The first abyss is blue. An artist must go beyond the mercy of satin or water-from a gutty hue to that which is close to royal purple. All seasons and blossoms inbetween. Lavender. Theatrical and outrageous electric. Almost… — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share
“The Way the Cards Fall " Why did you stay away so long? I’ve buried another husband, since I last saw you holding to the horizon. I hear where you now live it snows year-round. The pear & apple trees have even missed you– dead branches scattered about like war. Come closer, my eyes have grown night-dim. Across the field… — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share
Vietnam helped me to look at the horror and terror in the hearts of people and realize how we can't aim guns and set… — Yusef Komunyakaa Copy Share Image
