microreview: Songs For Wo​(​Men) 2 by Mugabi Byenkya

review by José Angel Araguz

A  photo of Mugabi's mixtape as a cassette outside of its case.
A photo of Mugabi’s mixtape as a cassette outside of its case.

[CW: talk of suicide]

One of the gifts of lyric poetry is the way that it can hold space for a full range of truths as well as ways to access understandings of truth. I often tell writers that what we are after is awkward human utterance. This can be interpreted both as craft as well as content. Figuring out what needs to be said as well as how it needs to be said–this is the gift and animation of engaging with poetry and its truths.

These thoughts are on my mind after spending time with the digital album Songs For Wo​(​Men) 2 (Hello America Stereo Cassette) by Mugabi Byenkya. This album’s narrative arc centers the experiences of a disabled body navigating an able-bodied world as well as the themes of intimacy and love and their role in survival. What charges through the listening experience is Byenkya’s lyric sensibility.

The opening to “Tina,” for example, sets a scene deftly then quickly makes clear what the stakes are:

Housekeeping keeps knocking on the door telling me to open up. I sit and listen. I’m the reason that the towel rack lies mangled askew on the chalky linoleum floor, wondering how much this is going to rack up in charges, wracking my mind for a convincing enough excuse, because I had a seizure while getting out of the shower is a little too much truth, a little too much awkward silence, a little too much shifty eyes, a little too much tiptoeing past the room but barging in when the fork clatters to the ground, a little too much.

The scene here depicts the liminal space of having to negotiate around vulnerability. The physical vulnerability of the moment runs parallel with the emotional vulnerability behind the speaker’s voice. Reading the words alone makes clear the mind at work; the wordplay of “open up” can be appreciated and lingered over in text, such a poignant note to hit before moving forward. Listening to Byenkya’s voice behind words, however, adds a further dimension, makes clear exactly the “opening up” to come.

The idea present in the phrasing “a little too much truth” lives at the core of this album. Byenkya’s awareness and ability to evoke for listeners moments of “a little too much truth” is a gift to watch in action. The track “Professor Poopy Pants” shows how this kind of truth can be accessed through humor:

No doctorate. But my pants are poopy. Did I just poop in my pants? Absolutely. There’s no fade to black like a scene in a movie cuz I just pooped my pants and that’s a major oopsies. You might be chuckling and wondering how I could get to the point where I poop in my pants while asleep; you won’t be chuckling when you discern that it’s due to me suffering from three strokes by the time I turn 23. At the time life was so stressful and depressing that pooping my pants was honestly a relief. For I went to bed most nights wishing for death, but that morning I woke up to some comic relief.

When listening to the track, Byenkya’s performance takes centerstage. He delivers the above lines with a swagger and play at first, only to ground that swagger in a tone of conviction as the lines move from play to the truth of the scene. This switch in tone occurs in text via word choice, as can be seen midway in this excerpt when the speaker moves from “poop” to “discern” midway, the physical language shifting to language of the mind.

More than analysis, this mixtape invites introspection, the speaker waxing through intimate raw recollections, sharing them with the listener in ways that spark insights. The blunt and direct statements throughout stand in stark contrast with the emotional tenor in which they are delivered:

My first thought upon waking up is suicide; my last thought before drifting off to sleep is suicide. I’m not often this frank about my suicidal ideation, but I am often this frank about my love for you.

This moment from “Laura” is a good example of the facility with which Byenkya creates moments of intimate juxtaposition that point to personal stakes. In doing this, Byenkya is able to tap into a lyric sensibility and draw out the poetic from vulnerability. Here, too, is another example of how “a little too much truth” is necessary to speak about what matters.

*

Songs For Wo​(​Men) 2 can be found at Hello America Stereo Cassette site.
Find out more about Mugabi Byenkya’s work, at his site.

* singing with jim ferris

Poet of Cripples – Jim Ferris

Let me be a poet of cripples,
of hollow men and boys groping
to be whole, of girls limping toward
womanhood and women reaching back,
all slipping and falling toward the cavern
we carry within, our hidden void,
a place for each to become full, whole,
room of our own, space to grow in ways
unimaginable to the straight
and the narrow, the small and similar,
the poor, normal ones who do not know
their poverty. Look with care, look deep.
Know that you are a cripple too.
I sing for cripples; I sing for you.

*

beauty is a verbOne of the highlights of teaching composition this summer has been engaging with excerpts from the anthology Beauty is a Verb: The New Poetry of Disability. There is a wealth of great poetry in this anthology, which includes the work of Ona Gritz, Hal Sirowitz, and the writer of this week’s poem, Jim Ferris.

What I love about this week’s poem, “Poet of Cripples,” is how Ferris takes a singular experience and sings it in such a way that it becomes personal for the reader. The stakes engaged with via the poem quickly become familiar; the speaker’s intimate address of Look with care, look deep, is in the tradition of Whitman’s “Song of Myself.” Poetry becomes, for Ferris as it was for Whitman, a way to access our hidden void and push ourselves to what we would become.

This poem’s momentum makes me think of another Whitman-influenced poet, Pablo Neruda, specifically his lines at the end of “Alianza (Sonata)” where so much intangible and conceptual feeling is evoked through language that is felt in the body:

Screenshot_2016-07-14-20-51-34-1

…I feel your lap’s heat and the transit of your kisses
creating fresh swallows in my dreams.

At times the fate of your tears rises
like age up to my forehead, and there
the waves keep breaking, destroyed by death:
its movement is damp, decayed, final.

Both poets meet at the place where language and the body meet to affect each other, like waves making and unmaking the shore.

Happy singing!

José

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Reasons (not) to Dance by Jose Angel Araguz

Reasons (not) to Dance

by Jose Angel Araguz

Giveaway ends August 07, 2016.

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