"Walcott, Heaney, Muldoon & Co." by Sasenarine Persaud
His awards include the K.M. Hunter Foundation Award (Toronto, 1996), the 1999 Arthur Schomburg Award (New York) for his writing and his pioneering of Yogic Realism, and Fellowships at the University of Miami and Boston University. Persaud has a Master's in Creative Writing from Boston University. His fiction was shortlisted for the 1997 Journey Prize (Toronto) while his poetry was nominated for the 1998 Canadian National Magazine Award, and twice (1989 and 1998) shortlisted for The Guyana Prize for Literature.
Sasenarine Persaud has pioneered Yogic Realism, a term he has invented to describe his literary aesthetics; his essay, “Kevat: Waiting on Yogic Realism” was published twice in India. Yogic Realism and Sasenarine’s work has been the focus of a doctoral dissertation.
Walcott, Heaney, Muldoon & Co.
But for those unfamed
not this trudge and toil
of backside on swivel chair
Eyes glued to monitors and digital
counter adding minutes and hours
eight Internet Explorer windows
Open to funds moving between
Europe, Asia, the Middle East,
Americas: Where are the money
Launderers? You can track money’s
pathways and cannot find your own
you can justify an electronic transfer’s
Journey and forget your name’s
origin until a remittance’s laneway
lands you an alert in MP, UP, or AP.
Where is that? Uttar or Andhra Pradesh
are states in I—a Cebanova’s in Romania
Lorca’s nostrils flared by a Roma
Andalusia performance perched
in a Boston library in oil mostly black
the cloth of flamenco dancers skirts
And singers shirts enough to encircle
sun like a yolk rising over water
invisible from the highway’s tar-top snake
Lined with pepper-red eyes on SUVs’
behinds; those unfamed lower down
on a Ford road—another day chasing
Arab entities or Chinese investing in the chair
you sit, the backlit screens you examine
For rent, or an hour to compose yourself.
Would we not prefer “fame” and Sunday’s
emptiness, the whoredom of a poet: words
You do not write a poem, the anointed and their acolyte
critics say: you attempt to write…they have, of course,
you eat put-you-down pie and serf for a Saudi Prince
For those without Arkansas or other testaments,
for the visionaries who said, once, the chosen
dwell in a certain region, and only gods could fly
Throughout the month of April, National Poetry Month, poets from the Caribbean and South Florida will be featured on this blog.