Letter to Death Row

One day, about a year ago, I got an email from a woman named Esther. Esther from Germany. Esther works for this organization called “Alive.” They advocate for men and women on Death Row. Esther told me none of this. All she was said that she has a friend in Texas currently on Death Row named Kenneth Foster. And Kenneth loves poetry. She goes to different websites, print out their pages and send them to Kevin. (isn’t that grand?) She came across mine, printed out my pages, much of my poetry, and sent it to Kenneth. Turns out he loved my poetry. Shared it with some of his prison mates.

Esther was emailing me to ask me if I would send one of my chapbooks to Kenneth. To dismantle the book, to take off the card stock cover and pull out the staples, b/c they would confiscate it. So, I did it. I sent him the book along with a nice, encouraging note written on the inside. I also did some reading up on some of the ramifications on Kenneth’s case. Fascinating, befuddling and heartbreaking. To read all about Kenneth’s case you can go to these links: http://www.austinchronicle.com/issues/dispatch/2005-02-11/pols_feature.html and http://www.kennethfoster.de/.

Weeks later I got a manila envelope in the mail. It was a letter from Kenneth, a rather lengthy typewritten letter. It must have been about 7 pages, single spaced, double sided. The letter was gorgeous. This man loved my poems, broke some them down the way a college professor never would and never has. He told me about his life behind bars on death row. Turned out I had quite the fan base in the Polunsky Unit of Livingston, TX. Apparently my poems leaped from Kenneth’s hands and grabbed on to the next inmate’s hands and like Tupac, they got around! Kenneth told me about his dreams behind and beyond those bars. This man was more up on the current poetry scene than even I was! Behind bars, he was trying to link me up to other people and collectives doing great things in the poetry world. Amazing. After reading his letter, I remember feeling that that was the most human exchange I’d had with someone in my recent memory, that letter. This was quite some months ago—maybe 8 or 9. Quite a few weeks later, even months, I wrote Kevin a lengthy letter back—though no where as near as lengthy as his. I wrote this letter in journal format to him, over the course of several days. I typed it. Life got in the way. I never sent it. I often thought about Kenneth, Esther was very good about letting people know about what was happening with Kenneth: the radio show that a Texas radio station acquired, to read the shout outs of people of loved ones in the Polunsky Unit. And they would all gather around the radio at Sunday at 1:00pm or so to listen to see if they got a shout out. Yes, she would send out emails about the Texas radio show, to an appeal granted in Kevin’s case, to the recent Protest at the Polunsky Unit that is starting to get some press.

So, I recently wrote Kenneth a letter. I’ve felt abominable for not replying to his letter and I wrote a 6 page letter (handwritten ) and I found it to be the roundest, most honest exchange I’ve had with someone in my recent memory. It was much like a journal entry so I figured I would share this letter here, in two parts.

01.23.06

Dear Kenneth,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I apologize for my silence. I’ve written to you once before—a letter of incomplete thoughts—but a letter none theless. I never sent it . It’s still trapped in my computer, screaming to be exonerated and given to its rightful owner—you. If I could figure out where I saved this letter on my portable brain, I will retrieve it and send it along with this one.

So, I hear you brothas are stirring the pot up there in the Polunsky Unit, using the tactics of our not so distant ancestors. It always amazes me, how many worlds truly exist in this one world. This weekend, I tried skiing for the first time. Never had any desire not even thought about it. But I got an invite so I went. I fell in love with this sport that I’ve only looked upon (the Olympics, for instance) in indifference. I loved it instantly, just by watching it up close. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my recent life—the next scariest thing to going up on stage and pouring my guts out in front of a group of strangers. The interprise of performing myself on stage via poetry no longer frightens me. For the longest time, without even knowing it, I’ve needed something else to frighten me. Something to frighten me out of my skin, tap me on the shoulder and whisper in my ear “ mortality.”

So, I got to the top of the slope (the bunny slope, mind you) I looked down and was truly frightened. Truly. I didn’t know the last time I’d felt that feeling so thoroughly, so entirely. And I did it. Without taking a lesson, without knowing anything, I went down the hill, frightened the whole way down. But Kenneth, the wind on my face, the brilliance of the big blue sky, the realization of snow under my new 4 foot long shoes. I will never forget that fear I felt the entire way down. I got to the bottom of the hill without falling and that was it. I learned all I needed to know about skiing—and relearned all I needed to know about humanity. Skiing is all about letting go of fear. I watched other people around me fall left and right. They fell simply because they were afraid and they let the fear swallow them whole—little Jonahs. I was afraid too, but I didn’t let it consume me.

Kennth, you should know that I’m quite arrogant at times about my fearlessness. Someone asked me the other day when was the last time I felt afraid and I couldn’t answer them. I walk in strange neighborhoods in NYC at 2 in the morning by myself without a thought. I have driven through the most redneck towns throbbing with the undead Klan convinced that nothing could or would possibly happen to me. But, this bunny slop had me shook. I went up again—the same fear gripped my throat—all the way back down to the bottom. And I ended up skiing for four hours and didn’t fall once. I taught myself how to maneuver, stop, slow down, speed up. I was reminded of the pungent taste of what it’s like to be afraid, truly afraid of something. And it was humbling. I never thought I would be humbled by a bunny slope on Suwannee Mountain. Blessings wear the heaviest cloaks.

I want to know what life is like for you these days. What is the climate like at Polunsky right now and how have you been dealing with that? I apologize for being so bad about being in touch. If you were to look up the word “self absorbed” in the book on inventions, you would see my face. Making a living, or “catching my ass” as we say in Trinidad, becomes a world all by itself.
Have you ever seen these wooden dolls? The ones that open up in the middle and there’s a doll inside of that one—identical, just a little smaller? Then you open up that doll and there’s one just like that and there’s all these dolls giving birth to dolls, and you keep opening up these maddening dolls until you come across one the size of a thimble. So, I’m that thimble-sized doll, so caught up in the world and I feel like I have lost all awareness of how layered existence is—how many worlds encase me. Am I making sense? I’ve said all that to say, thank you for your patience. You’ve reached out to me in a great and humble way and I haven’t reciprocated in any tangible way, though I think of you often. Esther is really good at keeping you alive in the minds of people far and near.

So, some random things I’ve learned as of late. I’ve learned that the “pachyderm” is another word for elephant. I’ve also learned that pachyderms mourn their dead; they cradle the dried up skulls of their dead in their trunks and moan like widows. Fascinating isn’t it? Another name for starfish is asteroid. Black holes were once stars. There’s a chemical compound called squalene that is found in shark liver. Squalene helps to oxygenate all of the cells in the body and scientists believe that that is what enables sharks to exist in deep seas thousands of feet below, years away from sunlight. In fact, sharks live uncannily long and have existed for over 400 million years on this planet—one of the oldest creatures in existence. Scientists believe that squalene is the key. Squalene, in minute amounts, is also found in olive oil. Dogs are being trained to determine whether or not someone has breast or lung cancer just from smelling his or her breath. I have no idea if this stuff is fascinating to you. If you tell me to stop, I will with no offense taken. Science is a recent fascination of mine. The only corner of science that I ever found even remotely fascinating was genetics. I’m starting to develop a reason for my recent fascination in my laboratory of ideas.

I serve middle school kids in Spanish Harlem—I direct an afterschool program. I love this job—but these kids. God, they’re gorgeous to the core. At the same time, I see all of this world’s mistakes manifesting in them. This school system, this horrid institution of delearning—the age of technology that turns the brain to mush—making it as obsolete as rotary phones and DOS. I see the rise of the music video, roaring its ugly head in the behaviors and proclivities of our kids. I feel like many of them are like beautiful science experiments going so tragically wrong. Children are brilliant—I admire their mind’s capacity to learn. Their brains outmatch ours. They can learn languages over night. Three year olds can take apart VCR’s and check for clues—report back in an hour.

Kenneth, when children are 11 and have already lost their curiosity, when they’re saying things like, “I don’t want to go anywhere that I’ve never been,” and “I know I’ve never tried it but it’s just not my thing,” it makes me wail inside. So, lately I’ve been turning to science, where there is a discovery each day—a new brand of toad or the revelation of planet in Pluto’s suburb. Though science always leaves plenty of room for chaos, there is a beautiful order in it—look at the machinations ecosystem (without our fuck ups, of course), look at the fact that babies are born with no teeth so that they can be breastfed—I find that brilliant! It’s larger than us, a design more intricate than a spider’s fancy web. And here we are, destined for madness.

So that’s where I’m at Kenneth. Just trying to expose kids to a life of imagination, expression and exploration. Continuing to teach poetry to whatever faces are placed before me. I started back teaching at the J-school last week which has been going great so far. My student’s minds are orgasmic—in a very non sexual way of course. Just trying to pay bills and save a little something for a sunny day (why always anticipate the rainy?). I can say that life is good to me these days. I love my work and all of the challenges it entails, I love the food that I eat, each syllable of laughter, and I’m drinking more water these days. And I’ve fallen in love with skiing.

Hope to hear from you soon, my friend.