In December 1990, poet Cornelius Eady, now 71, was feeling dispirited by the literary world. He’d attended the Assn. of Writers & Writing Applications convention in Denver that 12 months and felt like he was the one Black poet in attendance.
“I wasn’t,” he assures me, all these a long time later. “But it felt that way. I was on an island. I felt like I was the only person there. I couldn’t stand it. And I was doing an interview back then and I asked, ‘Well, why can’t we have a place that’s just for us?’”
It might be six years earlier than Eady and fellow poet Toi Derricotte, now 83, got here up with a tangible reply. Collectively, they imagined a spot the place Black poets wouldn’t have to elucidate or defend themselves. Eady and Derricotte deliberate a retreat that will be equal components literary workshop and summer season camp, freed from cost, for Black poets. They known as it Cave Canem.
Named after an indication in Latin that Derricotte had seen whereas visiting the Home of the Tragic Poet in Pompeii, Cave Canem (“Beware of the Dog”) was envisioned as a community-building enterprise. There, Black poets of all stripes may tune out the world and as a substitute fine-tune their craft. Eady and Derricotte knew discovering institutional assist for such a venture can be troublesome if not not possible. And so, in a match of good folly, they determined to take it on themselves — financially and logistically.
Near 30 years later and now a registered nonprofit, Cave Canem is ready to provide free tuition for its annual summer season retreat. It’s hosted greater than 550 fellows, together with literary luminary Danez Smith, Pulitzer Prize winner Jericho Brown, Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award winner Ross Homosexual, and U.S. Poet Laureate Tracy Okay. Smith. Its college, in the meantime, has boasted the likes of MacArthur Fellows Terrance Hayes and Claudia Rankine, PEN award winner Harryette Mullen, and Nationwide Guide Award winner Nikky Finney.
With yearlong programming and two annual ebook prizes of its personal, Cave Canem’s mission is finest exemplified by these two weeks a 12 months spent on the College of Pittsburgh at Greensburg, Pa., the place the retreat has been primarily based since 2003.
The primary retreat happened at Mount St. Alphonsus, a former seminary in Esopus, N.Y. Those that gathered there in 1996 had been inspired to take a seat in a circle and introduce themselves to 1 one other. The query posed to those poets in different areas — “Why are you here?” — was not a hostile problem however a gap.
“Somebody started crying as they started talking,” Derricotte remembers. “And nobody went over to pat him on the back or hold him or anything. They let him cry. And that’s why it took three hours.” The spirit of that inaugural assembly stays intact.
Cave Canem fellows.
(Cave Canem Archives)
What the opening circle provided and continues to supply Cave Canem fellows is the house to be totally, really themselves. The train is pushed by the conviction that what every of those poets deliver to the desk is sufficient. And that what they’ll create or share in that house will probably be held with care.
For Morgan Parker, writer of the Nationwide Guide Critics Circle Award-winning “Magical Negro” (2019) and a Cave Canem fellow (2012, 2014, 2015), the opening circle was a welcome train.
“That introduction sets the bar in terms of vulnerability,” Parker says. “Yes, there will be rigor. And yes, there will be a lot of poetry-making. And yes, there could be poet laureates and prizes in your future. But for right now, this is about opening up and caring for each other as we do that. It makes this space really personal. Obviously poetry is personal, but I’ve been to a lot of different programs and workshops and that’s not always the things we lead with, this caring for the individual.”
As such, Cave Canem prides itself on being a spot the place belonging and neighborhood are one and the identical. It’s additionally why the combo of fellows any given 12 months consists of rising and established writers, current grads of their 20s and dealing poets of their 80s, these working inside established traditions and people experimenting with kind.
“It had to be for all Black poets,” as Eady places it. “To underscore the idea that there’s no one way of being a Black poet. That it’s all legitimate.”
For Evie Shockley, a Pulitzer Prize finalist who was first a fellow (1997, 1998, 1999) and later returned as a school member, Cave Canem has made room for expansive concepts of what meaning. She remembers how having Mullen and Rankine as instructors and seeing the experimental Black Took Collective established throughout the retreat was eye-opening for an rising poet like herself.
“It was transformative,” Shockley says. “I won’t say that without Cave Canem I wouldn’t have been a poet. But it happened so early in my period of being serious about writing that I have no sense of what my writing would have been without it.”
Equally, it appears not possible to think about what modern American poetry would appear like with out this longstanding group.
“If there was a centrifugal force in American letters over the last 25 years, it is undeniable that it has been Cave Canem,” Reginald Dwayne Betts (2006, 2007) says. “It’s been largely out of the power of literature. It hasn’t been driven by the power of commerce. The work has actually been creating these opportunities for writers to become better at their craft.”
Or, as Derricotte has put it, the main target is on “doing the work” and seeing traditions and aesthetics, lineages and linkages, always solid and foregrounded.
Co-founders of Cave Canem Toi Derricotte and Cornelius Eady.
(Cave Canem Archives)
“The first year I went, I brought a pantoum of sound,” Nikia Chaney (1997, 1999, 2002), a California-based poet, remembers. “It doesn’t really make sense. You just have to kind of follow the sound. I still remember the reception that I got from it. Angela Jackson said, ‘You’re scatting on the page.’ I never really thought that some of my interests had a tradition.”
For Betts, a current MacArthur Fellow and the writer of “Felon: Poems” and “Shahid Reads His Own Palm,” Cave Canem was equally an entry level into the canon of Black poetry he’d first encountered whereas incarcerated. Again then he didn’t know that most of the poets he was studying had been related to Eady and Derricotte’s brainchild. When he attended the retreat as a fellow in 2006, he discovered himself in neighborhood with poets he’d lengthy considered heroes of his — heroes he’s now in direct dialog with, on and off the web page.
“I once called Sonia Sanchez at like 10 o’clock at night to read her a poem,” he says. “But I also got a chance to listen to her about how much she missed her good friend Toni Morrison, and how she missed the days when Amiri Baraka would call her to read a poem in the middle of the night.”
Right here was a residing, respiration canon of American letters being nurtured throughout generations. To Lynne Thompson, a former poet laureate of Los Angeles and the present board president of Cave Canem, therein lies the important thing conceit of this system.
“How can we provide community for them, where they feel free to express themselves as poets, as well as find every way we can to get the reading public to understand that the American voice is very diverse and well worth reading?” she says.
Because it nears its thirtieth anniversary, Cave Canem has lofty ambitions to proceed that mission. Simply final 12 months it launched a digital archives assortment and introduced, alongside Ithaka S+R, “Magnitude and Bond: A Field Study on Black Literary Arts Service Organizations,” a analysis venture that can study the organizational wants, methods and fashions behind such establishments.
Most of all, although, Cave Canem is a mirrored image of the ethos everybody concerned in it has delivered to bear on the endeavor.
“It’s like writing a great poem,” Derricotte says. “It’s mysterious. You don’t know what’s going to happen. It has taken so much brilliance and so many people coming at the right time. But it’s all about leaving the space for not knowing and believing and trusting Black people. Trusting Black poets. And that’s what happened.”
