Super Cool: Meeting Natasha Trethewey

I was humbled to attend a reading by my favorite poet, Natasha Trethewey, last week in Berkeley (not even the protesters, construction work, and an hour and a half of driving in circles with my Garmin were going to keep this from happening – thirty minutes late and all!)

I can say I was struck, simply, by the surreal nature of being at this event, something I tried to communicate to Ms. Trethewey after the reading, but was left repeating the phrases “I’m speechless, I’m humbled, I’m appreciative.” It’s very difficult to communicate with a poet (or anyone) an encapsulation – in a matter of seconds and without preparation – just how remarkable you think that poet’s work is. So one of the first things I said to her after the reading, and with duly noted hesitation, was “You’re my favorite poet,” despite telling myself that would be such a corny statement to make and figuring this revelation would probably stymie any further conversation of substance. Of course I wanted to blabber about why she was my favorite poet and express to her the extent of my admiration of her work, but instead found myself just telling her that, basically, I couldn’t speak because of the humility and gratitude I had for meeting her. A two and a half hour journey to say a simple thing: This little poet from Sacramento, California (I don’t think she knew were Sacramento was) is appreciative of her work. (I must’ve actually said this about three times, followed by “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe I’m here!”). This was the most honest utterance I could muster. Now that I think about it, I reckon the truest way I can communicate my admiration for her work is to continue to tell others about it, not her. I feel better now!

As for the reading, she seemed to be a kind of reserved reader, not making much eye contact with the audience (or maybe I missed all of the eye contact being a half hour late!). She seemed to be in her own zone when reading and speaking between her poems. I wonder, does frequently looking at the audience during a reading reduce one’s poetry to spectacle or episodic entertainment? Maybe something sacred and meaningful is lost in the performance of reading poems to a group of spectators. When I read, I close my eyes (yes, I close my eyes when I read my poetry!), because I liken the entire experience to prayer. Poetry is a promise of thanksgiving, and my reading is an offering. I guess that as audience members, we are only witnesses, like people sitting in pews at church as they watch the wedding to say “Yes, that happened.”

Interview: Innervisions: The Ego, Soul and Paradoxes of Black Vision

“Oftentimes I ask people, ‘What came first, the truth or a lie?’ The answer is the truth, because a lie is the distortion or omission of the truth. Lies cannot exist without the truth, whereas the truth fundamentally exists on its own.”

These are the analytical meditations of Kevin Bishop, aka Black Vision, poet, thinker, myth maker, visionary, father and son hailing from Kings County, Brooklyn, New York.

Such measures of inquiry and contemplation are at the essence of his debut collection of poems, “The Paradoxical Effects of Black Vision,” released in 2008 through Lulu Publishing after five years of development. 

The title of the book, though seemingly obscure, possesses a very apparent meaning to Bishop, explaining it expresses the idea that awareness and perception are results of a unified experience that doesn’t exclude physical sensibilities, but, more so, emphasizes spiritual possibility. As he says, the title “conceptualizes the ability to see from an undifferentiated point of view.”

Bishop further explains that, though such a point of view is undivided, it is actually composed of distinct aspects – the spiritual and the physical.

“Even though the two sides are different vibrational degrees, they are inherently the same,” the poet, who is also a father of two, explains. “I feel the best description is placing an ice cube in water. The solid ice represents the physical body and the liquid represents the spiritual state. They exist on different vibrational levels, but share [the] same essence which is water.”

In realizing a foundation from which all perception and consciousness emerges, Bishop has found a more complete universal perspective.

“Through my experiences I have learned how opposites are more complimentary than they are adversarial.”

The Paradoxical Effects of Black Vision, or PEBV, is informed by these conceptual dynamics. Parables, fables, and myths from all parts of the world have been a source of inspiration and meditation for Bishop since he was a child. These childhood imaginings have provided the seeds for poems in his collection such as I.S.P. (Inner Sensory Perception), in which he analyzes the differing roles between the soul and the ego.

Bishop, who composed PEBV “after going through terrifying experiences dealing [with] acrimonious occult practices,” believes that the ego is responsible for extreme and harmful human desires. The senses, he says, are utilized by the ego in order to fulfill carnal inclinations. Because of its spiritual void, the ego creates conflict within the individual.

“The priority is the battle for control of self, which ties into the mind,” Bishop explains.