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Kevin Young
Kevin Young is the author of six books of poetry, most recently Dear Darkness, named one of the Best Books of 2008 by National Public Radio's All Things Considered, and winner of the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance Award in poetry. His book Jelly Roll: A Blues was a finalist for both... show more

Kevin Young is the author of six books of poetry, most recently Dear Darkness, named one of the Best Books of 2008 by National Public Radio's All Things Considered, and winner of the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance Award in poetry. His book Jelly Roll: A Blues was a finalist for both the National Book Award and the Los Angeles Times Book Prize and won the Paterson Poetry Prize. He is the editor of four other volumes, including Blues Poems, Jazz Poems, and the Library of America's John Berryman: Selected Poems. The curator of literary collections and the Raymond Danowski Poetry Library and Atticus Haygood Professor of English and Creative Writing at Emory University, Young lives in Boston and Atlanta.
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Birth date: November 08, 1970
Category:
Poetry
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Community Reviews
Ceridwen
Ceridwen rated it 11 years ago
Cross-posted on Soapboxing.net I'm in the middle of planning the last of my grandparents' funerals, the one for my Grandma Dory who died three weeks ago. I'm a mess, and I'm not going to sugarcoat that. This is going to be messy. Writing Grandpa Ed's was easy, though the writing was the only ea...
Peace, Love & Books
Peace, Love & Books rated it 11 years ago
Ambitious, compelling, and powerful.
coffee & ink
coffee & ink rated it 11 years ago
Hard to summarize. Dense and ambitious cultural criticism focusing on African American culture, with particular attention to counterfeits, masks, variable personae, and truthful lies. There's quite a bit about how African American writers and musicians did modernism and postmodernism before they wer...
coffee & ink
coffee & ink rated it 17 years ago
Not the flame, but what it promised,Surrender. To be quenched of danger.I torched toothpicks to watch themCurl around themselves like living things,Panicked and aglow. I would wake,Sheets wrinked and damp, and riseFrom that print of myself,From that sleep-slack dummy self.Make me light.No one miss...
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