![]() ![]() Smith’s skill lies in their ability to convey entire universes in the syntax and arrangement of a few words. ![]() Homie is expansive, big enough to hold a vast mosaic of emotion and style, of life and death, of survival and resilience, of pain and joy. That’s what makes the book like oxygen–a cool breath for the lungs of those choked or erased by white supremacist cis-hetero patriarchy. It’s a book of odes to Black, queer, and trans people, and even though it can and should be read by everyone regardless of identity, it is explicitly for these communities and the people who live at their intersections. It’s a collection of love poems that isn’t for lovers so much as for friends, for found and created family, which has always been vital for queer folks. Homie, which has another title that’s explained in the note at the beginning of the book (and in this great Twitter thread), is about friendship, survival, death, intimacy, and community. Their words are specific, funny, glowing with a truth that seems like it has never been said in quite the right way before they said it. Their newest collection, Homie, feels like coming up for air when you didn’t know you were under water. Danez Smith’s poetry feels like breathing. ![]()
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