African-American Poet Project

Who We Chose #1
The poet we chose is Terrance Hayes.

Personal Information
#2
He was born on November 18th, 1971. He went to Coker College and the University of Pittsburg. He likes to write poems in his free time when he is not teaching at the University. Terrance and we both enjoy writing poems and that's one thing we can relate to.

Facts #3
He has written four poetry collections. We chose to tell you this fact because if you are studying him you will need to know this. He is a professor at the University of Pittsburg. We chose to tell you this fact because it is a really important fact if you want to go to the University of Pittsburg. His 2010 collection Lighthead, won the National Book Award For Poetry in 2010. We chose to tell you this fact because that is really cool that he actually won this award. He lives in Pittsburg with his wife and kids. We chose this fact because you might want to visit him one day when you grow up. He was bron in Columbia, SC. We told you this fact because it tells you where he was born and where he grew up.

Major Accomplishment/Awards #4

Terrance Hayes has earned many accomplishments/awards in his life. He's earned many degrees and awards. Here is a list of degrees and awards he's earned.

Degrees

• He received a B.A. from Coker College
• He received an M.F.A. from the University of Pittsburg writing program
• Now he lives in Pittsburg and works as a professor at the University of Pittsburg

Awards

*2010-National Book Award fro Poetry
*2014-MacArthur Foundation Fellow Award
*2001-National Poetry Series Award
*2016-NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Literacy Work Poetry

Obstacles He Faced #5

One of the Obstacles he faces when he is writing is sometimes he gets writer's block .
He overcomes this obstacle by continuing to write.
Some of the the hardships that he has confronted in his poems are racism,religion,family,structure, and stereotypes.

A Machine Poem1 #6
Hey, I am learning what it means to ride condemned.
I may be breaking up. I am doing 85 outside the kingdom
Of heaven, under the overpass and passed over,
The past is over and I’m over the past. My odometer
Is broken, can you help me? When you get this mess-
Age, I may be a half-ton crush, a half tone of mist
And mystery, maybe trooper bait with the ambulance
Ambling somewhere, or a dial of holy stations, a band-
Age of clamor and spooling, a dash and semaphore,
A pupil of motion on my way to be buried or planted or
Crammed or creamed, treading light and water or tread
and trepidation, maybe. Hey, I am backfiring along a road
Through the future, I am alive skidding on the tongue,
When you get this message, will you sigh, My lover is gone?

Because keyless and clueless,
because trampled in gunpowder
and hoof-printed address,

from Australopithecus or Adam’s
boogaloo to birdsong
and what the bird boogaloos to,
because I was waiting to break
these legs free, one to each
shore, to be head-dressed in sweat,
my work, a form of rhythm
like the first ***, like the damage
of death and distance
and depression, of troubled
instances and blind instruction,
of pleasure and placelessness,
because I was off key and careless
and learning through leaning,
because I was astral and pitchforked
and packaged to a dim bungalow
of burden and if not burden, the dim boredom of no song,

I became a salt-worn dream-
anchor, I leapt overboard
and shackle and sailed through

my reflection on down
to ruin, calling out to you,
and then calling out no more.

THE END