Ross gay poems

Ross Gay was born in Youngstown, Ohio. He earned a BA from Lafayette College, an MFA in Poetry from Sarah Lawrence College, and a PhD in English from Temple University. Ross Gay poems, quotations and biography on Ross Gay poet page. Ross Gay poetry page; read all poems by Ross Gay written. ”Within Two Weeks the African American Poet Ross Gay is Mistaken for Both the African American Poet Terrance Hayes and the African American Poet Kyle Dargan, Not One of Whom Looks Anything Like the Others”.

Originally published in the May–June issue of American Poetry Review. Reprinted from Split This Rock’s The Quarry: A Social Justice Poetry Database. Ross Gay is an African-American poet and teacher living in Bloomington, Indiana. He is the author of the collections Against Which, Bringing the Shovel Down, and most recently Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude (Pitt Poetry Series, ).

Listen to my favorite playlist. Eat some potato chips.

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Snuggle with my dog. Watch TV and go to sleep. Go for a walk. Play a video game. Call my mom. At the end of a volunteer shift on the Crisis Text Line I sometimes ask texters to tell me something nice they can do for themselves after we say goodbye. Just a small good thing, only for yourself. This question seems to make them happy, and it makes me happy too. How small and simple and ordinary the things we love are.

No matter the florid, deep sleep awaits. There is a time for everything. Look, just this morning a vulture nodded his red, grizzled head at me, and I looked at him, admiring the sickle of his beak. Then the wind kicked up, and, after arranging that good suit of feathers he up and took off. Just like that.

And to boot, there are, on this planet alone, something like two million naturally occurring sweet things, some with names so generous as to kick the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon, stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks at the market. Think of that. The long night, the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah. But look; my niece is running through a field calling my name.

My neighbor sings like an angel and at the end of my block is a basketball court. I remember. For more information about Ross Gay, please check out his website. Click here for more information about Ross Gay. Like Like. Search for:. Facebook Instagram Words by Winter, my podcast. Like Loading Poem of the Week, by Robert Hershon. Hi Alis Like Like.

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