His name by itself is a poem. Ezra Pound. In a Station in the Metro: “The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet black bough.” He was anti-Semitic. He was weeds and wheat, the subject of Jesus’ most profound parable.
Only in a culture that fetishizes the body can a man be described as black or white.
No one before or since has rebuked White America with such elegance and fearlessness. “I will flatly say that the bulk of this country’s white population impresses me, and has so impressed me for a very long time, as being beyond any conceivable hope of moral rehabilitation. They have been white, if I may so put it, for too long.”
A deepening awareness of how racism operates exposes a truth we’ve never understood or taken stock of: Our bodies divide and tribalize us, even to the reductio ad absurdum of skin colour.
The ineluctable fact of racism exposes our enslavement to the past. Men are free who are free from the past. Free men are not old men refurbished; they’re new men.