Finna

Praise

“These snippets of precisely bladed black boy gospel, penned by the nonpareil son of the wild hundreds, finna resound and reach an impossible reach.”—Patricia Smith, author of Incendiary Art

“Simply outstanding poetry.”—Roxane Gay, author of Hunger and Bad Feminist

“I am thankful for the honesty and self-examination in this work, yes. But even beyond that, I am thankful for a speaker who speaks as my people might, yelling across a parking lot or during a card game. I am thankful that this, too, is a part of the honesty this marvelous collection is in pursuit of.”—Hanif Abdurraqib, author of Go Ahead in the Rain and A Fortune for Your Disaster

“My original blurb was ‘this book decent,’ but I was told that the editor wouldn’t go for that so I am going to tell you instead that this book catalyzes a necessary conversation about Black language practices, culture, ownership, and belonging, and the commodification of Black people’s tongues. . . . So, like I said, this book decent.”—Eve L. Ewing, author of Electric Arches and 1919

“In Finna, I hear Etheridge Knight, I hear Terrance Hayes, but most vividly, I hear Nate Marshall naming his many selves as some flee.”—Saeed Jones, author of How We Fight for Our Lives and Prelude to Bruise

“These poems here, these backhand slaps of what-you-didn’t-know-you-needed, finna be that swift fissure in the landscape of lyric. This werk is relentlessly rhythmed, deja-Chi all over again, and it’s finna hit harder than necessary or known. These snippets of precisely bladed black boy gospel, penned by the nonpareil son of the wild hundreds, finna resound and reach an impossible reach—in fact, if karma knows its stuff, this craved-for and combustible collection finna find itself peeking from the back pocket of that other Nate Marshall’s stiff and sturdy MAGA-issued denims.”—Patricia Smith, author of Incendiary Art

“In Finna, I hear Etheridge Knight, I hear Terrance Hayes, but most vividly, I hear Nate Marshall naming his many selves as some flee, others linger, and one in particular threatens to hunt him down. And yes: ‘I feel you Nate Marshall. / i’ve left places & loves / when they told me they loved / a Nate Marshall / I didn’t recognize.’ Don’t be fooled by the calm and assured clarity of this poet’s voice; there is a trip wire hidden in damn near every line break.”—Saeed Jones, author of How We Fight for Our Lives and Prelude to Bruise

“Finna is a hip millennium blues song shot through with bolts of joy and humor, an innovative homage to home, and a trenchant critique of so-called race in these so-called United States. Please believe, there ain’t no sophomore slumping for this super talented poet.”—Mitchell S. Jackson, author of Survival Math