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Transcript: Poems on Air, Episode 83 - Nate Marshall

The following transcript is provided for accessibility only. Layout, formatting, and typography of poems may differ from the original text. We recommend referring to the original, published works when possible to experience the poems as intended by their authors.

[Music intro]

LYNNE THOMPSON: Hello! My name is Lynne Thompson, Poet Laureate for the City of Los Angeles, and I’m so happy to welcome listeners to this installment of Poems on Air, a podcast supported by the Los Angeles Public Library. Every week, I’ll present the work of poets I admire, poets who you should know, and poets who have made a substantial and inimitable contribution to the art and craft of poetry.

LYNNE THOMPSON: This week, Poems on Air happily revisits the poetry collection Finna, published in 2020 just in time for the worldwide pandemic. Not only a poet, Marshall is an experienced educator, working with learners of all ages in both academic and community settings. He co-wrote Chicago Public School's first literary arts curriculum and develops lesson plans using creative writing to help participants discuss social justice, mental health, community development, and other issues. He is an assistant professor of English at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.

LYNNE THOMPSON: Today’s poem is "Landless Acknowledgement" by Nate Marshall

"Landless Acknowledgement"



before we get started we would like to acknowledge that we live on some unceded 
bones. sometimes me & mine imagine ancestral homes. all i got so far is Montgomery, 
Alabama. what is a homeland for me? maybe a boat? certainly not a country. maybe a 
plot of land somewhere so far from the south sides i’ve claimed that i would get lost on 
the way. i admit sometimes my homies talk about their families immigrating & i get 
jealous. we lost the land we were custodians over before i was a twinkle in the eye of 
a twinkle in the eye of a twinkle in the eye. closest i got to a homeland is my mama’s
caucasian pitch in the phone calling the police. closest i got to a homeland is not never 
calling the police. closest i got to a homeland is my daddy’s laugh in a spades game. 
closest i got to a homeland is my lover’s tongue talking or otherwise. not to be dark but 
i am. not to be dark but the planet is on fire. not to be dark but they moving capitals
because the water is coming up. not to be dark but our bones are in that water too.
maybe that’s my capital? once the polar capitals melt & there’s a whole lot less land for 
folks to buy & sell & steal maybe everybody will feel a little more dark. will feel a little 
more homelandless like we do. why you think i call my compatriots homies? maybe
ain’t no home except for how your beloveds cuss or pray or pronounce.

LYNNE THOMPSON: The Los Angeles Poet Laureate was created as a joint program between the City’s Department of Cultural Affairs and the Los Angeles Public Library and this podcast is available wherever you get your podcasts. Thanks for listening!

[Music outro]

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    • DISCLAIMER: This is NOT a certified or verbatim transcript, but rather represents only the context of the class or meeting, subject to the inherent limitations of real-time captioning. The primary focus of real-time captioning is general communication access and as such this document is not suitable, acceptable, nor is it intended for use in any type of legal proceeding. Transcript provided by the author.

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