In the previous installment in the Political Poetry series, Afaa Weaver described his urge, as an African American poet, “to touch the proletarian vernacular at its deepest point.” A few days after the feature on Weaver appeared in Counterpunch, I received an email from a poet friend in Russia. The Russian exclaimed in mock disbelief: “A proletarian poet in America! Isn’t that special?” Sarcasm aside, isn’t that sad? Sad, because Americans have a noble history of progressive thought. Consider Melville’s seamen entranced by eloquent tyranny; Huck Finn’s inner dialogue as he debates whether or not to help Jim escape slavery; Jack London’s hobos and union organizers fighting mounted cops, “the...
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