I don’t read poetry as much as I would like, but have always maintained its effectiveness as a medium when done well. What does well mean? I’m not sure, but Reginald Dwayne Betts does whatever “it” is very well.
I first learned of Betts from this podcast, where I found him inexplicably enchanting. His voice, his way of speaking, and perhaps the fact that he was on the phone and sounded like he was miles away absorbed me, immediately. For better or worse, I remain seduced by academia and its promises of freedom, and Betts’ PhD candidacy does not help quell my affection.
As for the poems in Felon, they are this perfect balance of raw fear and beauty, a thing, I suppose, only poetry can accomplish. They are not raw in the Eastern Promises or Marlon James sense, but almost tender in the ways Betts illustrates the ways in which fear, in the Ta-Nehisi Coates sense, has defined a portion of his life, a portion that he spent in prison for a crime he committed, out of fear, of course. And not only that, but how that same fear has been wielded by the state against many other incarcerated or court involved people across the US —their guilt or innocence notwithstanding. All through poetry. You know, Audre Lorde says that poetry is vital for survival and for thinking of new ways of being and striving for justice in the world, and Betts has verified it.