#BlackHistoryMonth I asked a young Blood poet if my stuff was correct by Hoagland

Puttin’ on the Dog

for “Corner Girl”
By Everett Hoagland

Is my shit correct?
Is my vine correct?
Are my kicks country or correct?
Is my “do” down?Is my shit correct?Is my rusty black diction correct?
Should my ever more erudite
utterances be in “The Vernacular?”
Should my presentation be
theatrical and spectacular?

Is my shit correct?

Should my manner be mannered
and laid back?
Is my poetry Posey?
Does it go to too far into haute couture
noire?
Does it come from hard facts
and Fanon,
or does it refer repeatedly
to The Canon trippin’
in Trickster Mode, tryin’
to Trope-A-Dope????

Is my shit correct?

But, hey, black poetry’s got more
than one good way.
The other day I asked a young Blood
poet if my stuff was correct, if it was
happenin’.
He said, Breaklight becomes dawn,
Ol’ Head.  The word “happenin”
ain’t happenin’, ain’t “where it’s at.”
Today it’s on. Word!
Our work is all that.

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