poem index

poet

Sherwin Bitsui

Printer-friendly version

Sherwin Bitsui is originally from White Cone, Arizona, on the Navajo reservation. He is Diné of the Todích’ii’nii, born for the Tlizí-laaní. He received an AFA from the Institute of American Indian Arts and a BA from the University of Arizona in Tuscon.

Bitsui is the author of Dissolve (Copper Canyon Press, 2018); Flood Song (Copper Canyon Press, 2009), which received a 2010 PEN Open Book Award; and Shapeshift (University of Arizona Press, 2003).

Of his work, Sherman Alexie writes, “Sherwin Bitsui sees violent beauty in the American landscape. There are junipers, black ants, axes, and cities dragging their bridges. I can hear Whitman’s drums in these poems and I can see Ginsberg’s supermarkets.”

He is the recipient of a Lannan Literary Fellowship, a Native Arts & Culter Foundation Arts Fellowship, a grant from the Witter Bynner Foundation, and a Whiting Writers’ Award. He teaches in the low-residency MFA program at the Institute of American Indian Arts. He lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico.


Bibliography

Dissolve (Copper Canyon Press, 2018)
Flood Song (Copper Canyon Press, 2009
Shapeshift (University of Arizona Press, 2003)

by this poet

poem
Tonight I draw a raven’s wing inside a circle
	measured a half second
		before it expands into a hand.
	I wrap its worn grip over our feet
		as we thrash against pine needles inside the earthen pot.

He sings an elegy for handcuffs,
	whispers its moment of silence
at the crunch of rush-hour traffic,
and speaks
poem

In a cornfield at the bottom of a sandstone canyon,
wearing the gloves of this song tightly over closed ears;
the bursting sun presses licks of flame
into our throats swelling with ghost dogs
nibbling on hands that roped off our footprints
keeping what is

poem

Mother thought:
First we will run, then we will walk.
She asked, “Do we ramble when we speak in tongues?”

Her lack of supervision made this happen.

The dusk, the dawn, everything in between: a mistake.
The morning,
her aching tooth,
the shovel dulled in daylight—