Jamaal May
Biographic Data
| ID | 3672171 |
|---|---|
| NAME | Jamaal May |
| GIVEN NAMES | Jamaal |
| FAMILY NAME | May |
| SIGNATURE | MAY J |
| VERIFIED | No |
| TOTAL WORKS | 11 |
| TOTAL CITATIONS | 0 |
| AUTHOR COUNT | 11 |
| EDITOR COUNT | 0 |
| FIRST PUBLICATION YEAR | 1946 |
| LATEST PUBLICATION YEAR | 2016 |
| H-INDEX | 0 |
To Detroiters I Too May Have Called by the Wrong Names
To Detroiters I Too May Have Called by the Wrong Names Jamaal May (bio) Sorry. When I called you a graveyard,I meant your round, stone teethalways make me laugh.When I said you couldn’t touch meI meant, tag you’re it. Follow me! Follow me!I called you a tangle of vines becauseyou didn’t let me fallout of love with your hair. When I called you a land of too much sleep,I meant keep dreaming me upand I’ll keep dreaming of you.And since I can’t be an…
Something Had to Be Done
Something Had to Be Done Jamaal May (bio) And it worked. The box held the wingsand the girl barely noticed the nubs risingfrom where her shoulder blades curved in.Placed under a bed, the box causedhardly any dreams, though the rattle of itagainst the floor was described as unbearablefor a time. The burden passedfrom one townhome to anotheruntil eventually all forgot what was inside.But, what matters is that it worked.The clasp held fast and no on…
Intake in the Ward
Intake in the Ward Jamaal May (bio) Said he never saw that shit coming. A knotrose like a knuckle out of his hair. The guitaristtold me he lost his fender to the seaof sweaty elbows when he unplugged itand dove into the mosh pit’s crash. After the intake he admits he sold the stratand amp and stomp boxes for booze and food,ate alone, pushed away from the plate,with its tongue-shaped ketchup smears,and went directly to an orgy. Said his grief need…
No Sleep Is to Be Had Here
No Sleep Is to Be Had Here Jamaal May (bio) Some homes have housedtoo many wall drawings,fractured bowlsand scraped knees, too muchmisplaced cutleryand stained linen, too manycoughing spells,drenched pillows, whiskey spills,awkward waltzes, grunts,staircase spills, radiator burnsand gasps for airto ever truly silence the creakingthat keeps you awake,wondering what howlyou will leave in the cupboard.What whispers will you buryin the cellar? What w…
Megalophobia
MegalophobiaFear of large things Jamaal May (bio) It’s not that the walls are closing in, I mean,look at my shoulders, they widen even as we speak,this blazer is tearing on the blades,and nothing’s ever going to fit me again. I’m not afraidthe falling ceiling will flatten me to the floor,it’s the way my shins add inches, the wayit propels me upward, I’ve never been comfortablebeing so sky bound. The tight spaces kept meand kept me and now here yo…
Tyree Guyton's Caged Brain
Tyree Guyton’s Caged BrainDetroit Institute of the Arts Jamaal May (bio) A bird cage that is barely large enough for a bird,not round around the sides like I recall from cartoons,but flat in front and round up top, so it resemblesa door. The door centered between the narrowbars, obscured by rope spilling out, dangling.Follow the path of cords through the mouth of thiscage and watch the rope, stained in placeswith red, loop around itself and becom…
Ask Where I've Been
Ask Where I’ve Been Jamaal May (bio) Let fingers roamthe busy anglesof my shoulders.Ask why skin driesin rime-white patches, crackslike a puddle stepped on. Askabout the scars that interruptblacktop—the keloid on my bicep,a fogged window. Ask how manydays passed before the eyebrow healedafter a metal spike was torn out,uprooted lamppost in a tornado.Ask about the tornadoof fists. The blows landed. If you canwatch it all—the spit and blood frozena…
It Shakes Us Still
It Shakes Us Still Jamaal May (bio) After the Baptist retreat cartoonsand health class slideshow insistedsex was only good for courting AIDSand babies and pustules, a fingernailtraced across chest earthquakes us still,and the gods still build heartslike hearths in homeless shelters,a permanent place for the temporaryto gather and liquefy the frost on their hands.An ungloved hand in winter slid under shirtshakes the ice free. No one believes mewhe…
Tyree Guyton's Rosa Parks Street Sign
Tyree Guyton’s Rosa Parks Street SignFragment from the Heidelberg Project Art Installation Jamaal May (bio) Scuffs sweep across the entire rutty surface.The center is so twisted the edges have become sharp.The sign appears larger here than it wouldfixed to its original post watching the boulevard.This tells me something about the distance from skydown to curb and gutter. I’m learning what a boltcan do; the small bistre one, situatedbetween holes …
Granada
Granada Jamaal May The heart trembles like a herd of horses. —Jontae McCrory, age 11 Hold a pomegranate in your palm,imagine ways to split it. Bring redto surface. Think of the seed's arilsas blood vessels. Remember, grenadetakes its name from pomegranateand identify war by what it takes awayfrom the fecund orchards. Jontae, there is always one like you.The kid who gets the picked over boxwith mostly black crayons.The one who wonders what beautif…
Macedonia and Illyria (217–167 B.C.)
The early history of the coastal lowland to the south and south-east of Lake Scutari (Lacus Labeatis), through which the Bojana (Barbanna) and Drin (Drilo) rivers find their way to the sea, is not recorded, although archaeology suggests that this region, an obvious point of departure for penetration of the interior, was developed earlier by Greeks and played a greater part in their affairs than the writers of antiquity alone would allow us to bel…
No prominent works on this page.
Macedonia and Illyria (217–167 B.C.)
The early history of the coastal lowland to the south and south-east of Lake Scutari (Lacus Labeatis), through which the Bojana (Barbanna) and Drin (Drilo) rivers find their way to the sea, is not recorded, although archaeology suggests that this region, an obvious point of departure for penetration of the interior, was developed earlier by Greeks and played a greater part in their affairs than the writers of antiquity alone would allow us to bel…
Granada
Granada Jamaal May The heart trembles like a herd of horses. —Jontae McCrory, age 11 Hold a pomegranate in your palm,imagine ways to split it. Bring redto surface. Think of the seed's arilsas blood vessels. Remember, grenadetakes its name from pomegranateand identify war by what it takes awayfrom the fecund orchards. Jontae, there is always one like you.The kid who gets the picked over boxwith mostly black crayons.The one who wonders what beautif…
Tyree Guyton's Caged Brain
Tyree Guyton’s Caged BrainDetroit Institute of the Arts Jamaal May (bio) A bird cage that is barely large enough for a bird,not round around the sides like I recall from cartoons,but flat in front and round up top, so it resemblesa door. The door centered between the narrowbars, obscured by rope spilling out, dangling.Follow the path of cords through the mouth of thiscage and watch the rope, stained in placeswith red, loop around itself and becom…
Ask Where I've Been
Ask Where I’ve Been Jamaal May (bio) Let fingers roamthe busy anglesof my shoulders.Ask why skin driesin rime-white patches, crackslike a puddle stepped on. Askabout the scars that interruptblacktop—the keloid on my bicep,a fogged window. Ask how manydays passed before the eyebrow healedafter a metal spike was torn out,uprooted lamppost in a tornado.Ask about the tornadoof fists. The blows landed. If you canwatch it all—the spit and blood frozena…
It Shakes Us Still
It Shakes Us Still Jamaal May (bio) After the Baptist retreat cartoonsand health class slideshow insistedsex was only good for courting AIDSand babies and pustules, a fingernailtraced across chest earthquakes us still,and the gods still build heartslike hearths in homeless shelters,a permanent place for the temporaryto gather and liquefy the frost on their hands.An ungloved hand in winter slid under shirtshakes the ice free. No one believes mewhe…
Tyree Guyton's Rosa Parks Street Sign
Tyree Guyton’s Rosa Parks Street SignFragment from the Heidelberg Project Art Installation Jamaal May (bio) Scuffs sweep across the entire rutty surface.The center is so twisted the edges have become sharp.The sign appears larger here than it wouldfixed to its original post watching the boulevard.This tells me something about the distance from skydown to curb and gutter. I’m learning what a boltcan do; the small bistre one, situatedbetween holes …
Something Had to Be Done
Something Had to Be Done Jamaal May (bio) And it worked. The box held the wingsand the girl barely noticed the nubs risingfrom where her shoulder blades curved in.Placed under a bed, the box causedhardly any dreams, though the rattle of itagainst the floor was described as unbearablefor a time. The burden passedfrom one townhome to anotheruntil eventually all forgot what was inside.But, what matters is that it worked.The clasp held fast and no on…
Intake in the Ward
Intake in the Ward Jamaal May (bio) Said he never saw that shit coming. A knotrose like a knuckle out of his hair. The guitaristtold me he lost his fender to the seaof sweaty elbows when he unplugged itand dove into the mosh pit’s crash. After the intake he admits he sold the stratand amp and stomp boxes for booze and food,ate alone, pushed away from the plate,with its tongue-shaped ketchup smears,and went directly to an orgy. Said his grief need…
No Sleep Is to Be Had Here
No Sleep Is to Be Had Here Jamaal May (bio) Some homes have housedtoo many wall drawings,fractured bowlsand scraped knees, too muchmisplaced cutleryand stained linen, too manycoughing spells,drenched pillows, whiskey spills,awkward waltzes, grunts,staircase spills, radiator burnsand gasps for airto ever truly silence the creakingthat keeps you awake,wondering what howlyou will leave in the cupboard.What whispers will you buryin the cellar? What w…
Megalophobia
MegalophobiaFear of large things Jamaal May (bio) It’s not that the walls are closing in, I mean,look at my shoulders, they widen even as we speak,this blazer is tearing on the blades,and nothing’s ever going to fit me again. I’m not afraidthe falling ceiling will flatten me to the floor,it’s the way my shins add inches, the wayit propels me upward, I’ve never been comfortablebeing so sky bound. The tight spaces kept meand kept me and now here yo…
To Detroiters I Too May Have Called by the Wrong Names
To Detroiters I Too May Have Called by the Wrong Names Jamaal May (bio) Sorry. When I called you a graveyard,I meant your round, stone teethalways make me laugh.When I said you couldn’t touch meI meant, tag you’re it. Follow me! Follow me!I called you a tangle of vines becauseyou didn’t let me fallout of love with your hair. When I called you a land of too much sleep,I meant keep dreaming me upand I’ll keep dreaming of you.And since I can’t be an…
Art (10 works) · Art history (10 works) · History (10 works) · Literature (5 works) · Visual arts (5 works) · Hum (4 works) · Performance art (4 works) · Poetry (4 works) · Archaeology (3 works) · Freedom of Expression and Defamation (3 works)