“A Denominator, Common or Uncommon”*
Etheridge Knight,
Origins and influences
When we, the student researchers, began to dig into the vast archival material at our disposal, what became quickly apparent was how frequently Etheridge Knight, Jr. shunned convention and expectation in his life and work. He often blurred the line between poet and speaker, and his work can sometimes be read directly as a representation of his life; but even when not directly about himself, his work was very much of himself.
Knight’s first poetry collection, published in 1968, was titled Poems from Prison. Throughout his life, he would be saddled with the label of “prison poet.” Though it’s not a label he altogether rejected—even referring to himself in that way from time to time—it has unfortunately often been used as a totality, as if it explains everything you need to know about Knight and his work. This label pigeonholes Knight as a poet who either writes exclusively about or while in prison. I was interested in how Knight subverted this label, how he drew upon this deeply intertwined aspect of his personal history to fight against stereotypes and ultimately connect with others.
The great pleasure of archival research is the unparalleled intimacy the artifacts offer. I was exposed to letters, handwritten drafts of poems, doodles, flyers, bills, photographs, and many more pieces of Knight’s life. Many of these artifacts helped shed light on Knight’s work as a “prison poet”; other artifacts highlighted how Knight drew upon his past to try to make life better for people who were facing similar circumstances. For Knight, being a “prison poet” was not only about writing poetry while imprisoned, but was also about using poetry as a means for expression, as a way to fight for a life and passions beyond what he had immediately available. This was his way of finding solidarity with people with whom he otherwise would have had no connection.
I hope these artifacts will be instructive, both in better understanding Knight and his poetry and also in showing how grand the totality of a person can be. While Knight’s influence and importance are undeniable and can still be felt through the work of some of our best contemporary poets, his visibility is not as strong as it deserves to be. I hope this exhibit can help reintroduce the work of this indelible poet and initiate a whole new wave of appreciation for one of Indiana’s best poets.
*”A Denominator, Common or Uncommon” is drawn from Knight’s poem “A Wasp Woman Visits a Black Junkie in Prison,” published in The Essential Etheridge Knight, University of Pittsburgh Press, 1986.
tour the exhibit
This note was written as part of a larger document to help explain how Knight got his start as a poet. He describes the euphoria he felt after getting his first acceptance letter for a poem he submitted, writing: “And the feeling that swept through me after reading the ‘acceptance’ letter was something kin to exaltation, a serious joy and pride…I was having a poem published; people would read it; I was somebody.”
Knight describes how that acceptance letter, received four or five years before he was released, fundamentally changed how he viewed his life and his time in prison. “As I struggled with the language and the discipline of poetry,” Knight writes, “I was forced to re-examine, and re-structure, my relationships: with myself, with family and friends, with society, and with nature/god. Poetry demands change. And poetry and change are difficult in prison.” He includes a short stanza that highlights the suffocating nature of prison.
This artifact stands out especially knowing what we do now: that Knight would make a career out of poetry; that he would find a community and some level of success; that for however much his experience in prison followed him for the rest of his life, he never let it fully define him.
This hand-drawn prison cell was done by Knight. While it was just doodled on a scrap of paper, he held onto it, and it is an interesting physical artifact that shows how much his time in prison was critical to Knight’s work as a writer. He never forgot that time in his life and parts of it forever shaped his work, even as he moved away from overtly writing about his autobiographical prison experiences.
Flanner House is an Indianapolis-based nonprofit that works to provide economic, educational, and foundational services to families in need in the community, creating a self-sustaining community through organizing and mutual aid efforts. Knight wrote this grant application in 1983, looking to the local Indy organization to help create the infrastructure for an after-school arts program called “When Crime is Your Companion It Is Best to Walk Alone” that would help keep kids off the streets. The proposal, written with the support of People Against Crime and the Indianapolis Urban League, was for a series of four vignettes written and directed by Knight, which they would stage as shows open to the public. Knight wrote the program to be “mobile” so the vignettes could be staged at parks, churches, schools, and other community gathering locations.
Ultimately, the grant seems to have been unsuccessful, but this artifact gives an indelible insight into how Knight, as he got older, worked to be proactive, not reactive, in helping people change their lives. In the application, he talks about how he did not have these sorts of opportunities as a kid, and he wants to help give them to other kids who experience the same conditions in which he grew up: “the young people who are no longer in school or church, the young people who say they haven’t given up on society–society has given up on them.”
For Knight, poetry was something to be shared and which needed to become more democratized. Programs like the Free People’s Poetry Workshops were critical to him in sharing his experiences and wisdom. He often worked with incarcerated folks, acting as a mentor and pen pal, and he used these programs as safe spaces for up-and-coming poets to explore their art and their own personal growth.
—Transcription—
“Free Peoples’ Poetry Workshop”
conducted by
Poet Etheridge Knight
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-Etheridge Knight is the author of: Belly Song & Other Poems (Broadside Press, Detroit), Born of a Woman (Houghton Mifflin, Boston), Black Voices from Prison (Pathfinder Press, New York), and the Essential E.K.(Univ.-Pitt Press)
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Beginning Sunday, Sept. 28, 1986, will offer ten 3 hrs. Sessions. Some of the subjects to be discussed:
- A general overview of Contemporary Amer. Poetry; Outline goals + expectations of workshop.
- Theory of “The Creative Process.”
- The Oral + Physical Aspects in Contemp American Poetry
- Development critique of Poetry mss., critical evaluation, + the possibilities of Publication.
- Dynamics + Principles of Public Readings
Etheridge Knight will also be available to work with members of the workshop on an individual basis by arrangements. The class will close with
Throughout his life, Knight kept correspondence with people he met from across the country, whether it was students he met after speaking at university or fellow poets who ran in tangential circles. Knight also kept in touch with people he met through his prison workshops.
This letter is from an inmate named John Paul Minarik telling Knight how much he appreciated and gained from one of Knight’s Free People’s Poetry Workshop sessions. They kept a correspondence for several years, and Minarik would even send Knight drafts of his poems for feedback, which Knight provided. This letter–and the others like it–is a testament to how Knight fought to build community and how much of himself he was willing to share with others.
For Knight, his Free People’s workshops were not one-and-done events, but instead something which connected him to others who were in situations he was familiar with. Through his correspondence, he continued to explore the formative role prison played in his life while also showing those he kept in touch with that they were more than simply “prisoners”: they were writers.
Knight wrote this letter of recommendation on behalf of John Paul Minarik. It was included as part of Minarik’s application for commutation. It is a very sweet letter, and in it Knight writes that he and Minarik are colleagues because they are both poets, but also that they are colleagues on “another, deeper level: we are both ‘prison poets.’” Knight goes on to discuss how he credits poetry (and considering himself a poet) as the driving factor in finding a life and meaning beyond simply being a prisoner.
He closes the letter by saying that he has seen Minarik grow as a person and as a poet and, crucially, that Minarik would have a community that supports him. Knight writes: “Also, like I had, John Paul has some good friends in the poetry community who are willing to help support him. Me, for one.” Knight’s continued interaction with prisons and prisoners was not only because it was just what he knew; for Knight, his mission was to use his own experiences to help others grow and work toward a better life.
In this transcript, taken from a speech Knight gave at Colorado State University, he talks about how oral traditions like toasts inspired his work, and how storytelling was critical to his process. He also talks about the intersection of these forms with his time in prison. In this speech, Knight says: “Following any discipline, you’ve got to understand the traditions. It’s hard to be innovative if you don’t know what you’re innovating away from.” It is easy to miscategorize Knight as being so unorthodox in his poetry that there is not evidence of his poetry having technically strong aspects. Because he is such a dynamic speaker, and because he would often change his poems as he read to audiences to match their energy, it can be easy to overlook the strong connection Knight has and owes to poets and poetic traditions that came before him. Knight’s poetry was emotional and extremely personal, but by modifying the poetic tradition he drew from to fit his own vision, Knight began to create his own poetic form, one which continues to inspire poets today and which was the driving factor of much of his popularity. This continual “reinvention” also helped him cement himself beyond the confines of the “prison poet” label; it allowed him to draw upon his own experiences without becoming defined by them.
In the preface to his book Born of a Woman, Knight describes
how reading his poems across the country introduced him to new people and experiences, and specifically how this exposure helped him better understand and modify his language. In the piece, Knight writes about how his poems had phrases that would occasionally be flagged by people at readings for not being as inclusive as they could be. Instead of being frustrated, Knight talks about how these interactions prompted him to change his poems, not so they would not offend audiences, but instead welcome as many people as possible.
This is a fascinating artifact because it gives very specific, very helpful insight into how Knight viewed language and, more importantly, what he thought the role of poetry was. For Knight, poetry was a means of connecting; it was an avenue for personal expression, and that expression was a way to show people they were not alone. To see how he actively worked to make his poetry more welcoming to everyone is wonderful.