On the crisp evening of Oct. 18, Madison’s literary community flocked to Central Library for a celebration of author Danez Smith’s new poetry collection, “Bluff.”
“Bluff” is the result of Smith’s years-long examination of social justice issues, including the Palestinian liberation movement and George Floyd’s death, and how society perpetuates these inequalities.
The Twin Cities native received their undergraduate degree at the University of Wisconsin-Madison as a part of the First Wave Hip Hop & Urban Arts Scholarship Program.
Since graduating, their career has flourished, having received the Lambda Literary Award for Gay Poetry, the Kate Tufts Discovery Award and the Forward Prize. They’ve published three previous works: “[insert] boy,” “Don’t Call Us Dead” and “Homie.”
The night opened with a statement by Smith’s former professor Nate Marshall, who described his close relationship with the poet. Fellow First Wave member Diya Abbas performed three poems and introduced Smith with a glowing review of “Bluff.”
Smith took the stage with a familiarity few poets exhibit. Their spoken word roots bled into this reading, holding the audience captive with charisma, humor and raw honesty.
“Bluff” contemplates morality, identity, family, death and injustice. Smith asks the audience, and themself: how can one be an artist and fully contribute to change? Is poetry enough in the battle against corruption? Is it okay for one’s art to contribute to the capitalism that fuels American colonialism?
“The poem is still a border…a cage…I do know that it’s fuel,” they said.
Art is insufficient in the fight for equality and social justice, but it can help individuals work through the horror inflicted upon them, Smith said. Poetry can heal. Specifically, “Bluff” heals.
The collection responds to atrocities around the world, both overseas in Palestine and in Smith’s hometown of Minneapolis.
After the death of George Floyd, Smith took a hiatus from writing, saying, “I had to move with my hands, with my actions.”
On the anthology’s second poem, “ars america (in the hold),” Smith suggested, “there is no art in America but violence.”
Another standout poem from the book is “Last Black American Poem,” in which Smith peels the curtain back on former President Barack Obama’s presidency.
“I don’t want a Black colonizer,” they said. “My politics will not be satisfied by a mirror.”
In “less hope” Smith played with emphasis and volume, changing their delivery after the volta by flipping their tone from an outraged declaration to a somber finish.
The Palestinian tribute, “poem,” incorporated audience participation, as Smith made the whole room shout “Free Palestine” 21 times.
Other poems in this collection are more personal. There are ruminations over Smith’s sexual and gender identity after growing up in a Baptist home. In “Colorado Springs,” Smith reflects on a conversation with their grandmother about homosexuality in the Black community.
“I will not allow myself to exist in a system that is volatile to me,” Smith said after the poem.
Their poem “rondo” plays with form by including a wide black rectangle cutting through the page, scattering words in each direction. The line represents Interstate Highway 94 that cut through Smith’s childhood neighborhood in St. Paul.
As a final farewell, Smith told the audience that “art is a great space to practice the truth.”
In “Bluff,” the Wisconsin alumni does that to perfection.
