People often respond to written work with the statement that it “spoke” to them. The unique thing about Saul Williams’ poetry is not just its power to speak to us, but its ability to enable people to become speakers themselves. His newest book of poetry, “said the shotgun to the head,” was released in mid-September.
This is Williams’ third book of poems — after “The Seventh Octave” and “She” — although here, there is only one long piece, splayed across 10 sections and 178 pages. The numbers aren’t as grandiose as they sound, and given the amount of text on each page, let’s just say everyone will find this book a page turner. On average, each consists of no more than a few sentences, printed in large text with different typefaces (and Williams’ own handwriting).
Some might consider this a prose poem because it does tell a story. Williams prefaces the poem in the introduction, saying the book was motivated by a kiss.
“Have you ever been kissed by God? … Here is the account of a man so ravished by a kiss that it distorts his highest and lowest frequencies of understanding,” he writes. “He wanders the streets disheveled and tormented by all that he sees that does not reflect her love. He is a wondering man, sort of like a modern day John the Baptist, telling of the coming of a female messiah that he has known intimately.”
The title is perhaps misleading for a book about a kiss. And while Williams often likens the kiss-giver to a deity, there is no doubt that he is speaking more broadly of female divinity. The message is an embrace of femininity as a whole. The poet believes this power will act as a healing force in America’s present-day legacy of patriarchy, militarism and self-centeredness. Section five, perhaps the poem’s thesis statement, explicates these themes in political manner. One section reads, “a truth that mushrooms / its darkened cloud / over the rest of us / so that we too / bear witness / to the short lived fate / of a civilization / that worships / a male god.” The next page makes the pointed statement: “Your weapons / are phallic / all of them.”
The book’s design itself comes across as a play for the MTV demographic and is an obvious point of critique. It should come as no surprise that the publisher is MTV Books/Pocket Books. But lest you think Williams is unaware of potential hypocrisy, one section of the poem addresses this critique. In a dialogue between a journalist and a “Maned Character,” he seems to be stressing the importance of just having the words get out into the world (and uncensored, at that).
The black and white page reversals also complement the words. One example can be found on pages 106-107, which make dualistic statements on male and female gender. On the left side, a black page with white lettering reads: “God has hair / on her pussy / and waits / burning with desire / for you.” The right side of the page is white with black text, and responds: “this is no blasphemy / you have erected / ancient penises / in your capitols / and prayed / in the name / of a father / a male child / and a ghost.”
The overall character of the poem is one of intoxication and rapture — with revolution, freedom and new forms of consciousness. Williams’ narrative has this kiss-bearer walking the streets to spread the knowledge that has been imparted to him.
If America needs strong voices of dissent and conscience, Saul Williams is one of the louder speakers these days. It might take academics 20 years to include his poems in their Anglofied canons, but his message is one of immediacy. He is spreading words of change, and revolution, with an awareness that embraces all that civilization has tamed.