By — Margaret Myers Margaret Myers Leave your feedback Share Copy URL https://www.pbs.org/newshour/arts/poetry/lucie-brock-broido-reads-of-tookie-williams Email Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Pinterest Tumblr Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Lucie Brock-Broido Reads ‘Of Tookie Williams’ Poetry Sep 19, 2013 5:59 PM EDT Poet Lucie Brock-Broido reads her poem “Of Tookie Williams” from her latest collection “Stay, Illusion.” Brock-Broido explained that the subject of her poem is Stanley “Tookie” Williams, one of the leaders of the notorious Los Angeles street gang known as the Crips. Williams was put to death on Dec. 13, 2005, in San Quentin State Prison in California. The poem takes us back to the morning of his execution. Listen to her reading of the poem in the player above for the poet’s take on some of the details from the story of Tookie Williams. Of Tookie Williams By Lucie Brock-Broido A thousand inmates’ spoons for music While the paper kite flies like a boy-weed caught In wind from San Quentin to nestle in the next Prison and the next. Do not do this thing, The kite said, But not that gently on the page of it. No, said The Governor, Not if Mr. Williams won’t atone. Underground, a pen of clemency will not irritate The vellum of the night. There was a snag, the warden said. So enormous was Tookie’s arm The needle couldn’t enter it, eleven minutes of poking Three to find the vein, Thirty-six to put him down. Tookie was a big man, The warden said, But it’s only salt that stops The heart–you know–that simple. But if I say “simple” for example, I mean That in the private gardens Of our aristocracy, the animals are harnessed in Or bled out broad by Day and when they take them down, The children are only very gently Sad, a habit of the class they were born to. Me, I am not “mean,” I’m told, only Vengeful, which is a relief to me, of course. The wind is kicking up now. Lung for lung. Soon I will be done for. On his last night here on earth, he only took milk. Reprinted with permission from Alfred A. Knopf Lucie Brock-Broido is the author of four collections of poetry, including her latest “Stay, Illusion.” She is the Director of Poetry in the School of the Arts at Columbia University in New York. We're not going anywhere. Stand up for truly independent, trusted news that you can count on! Donate now By — Margaret Myers Margaret Myers Margaret Myers is the former Digital News Editor for PBS NewsHour. She is a former editor for ESPN.com. She also led the features department at the Amarillo Globe-News in west Texas. @margaretvm
Poet Lucie Brock-Broido reads her poem “Of Tookie Williams” from her latest collection “Stay, Illusion.” Brock-Broido explained that the subject of her poem is Stanley “Tookie” Williams, one of the leaders of the notorious Los Angeles street gang known as the Crips. Williams was put to death on Dec. 13, 2005, in San Quentin State Prison in California. The poem takes us back to the morning of his execution. Listen to her reading of the poem in the player above for the poet’s take on some of the details from the story of Tookie Williams. Of Tookie Williams By Lucie Brock-Broido A thousand inmates’ spoons for music While the paper kite flies like a boy-weed caught In wind from San Quentin to nestle in the next Prison and the next. Do not do this thing, The kite said, But not that gently on the page of it. No, said The Governor, Not if Mr. Williams won’t atone. Underground, a pen of clemency will not irritate The vellum of the night. There was a snag, the warden said. So enormous was Tookie’s arm The needle couldn’t enter it, eleven minutes of poking Three to find the vein, Thirty-six to put him down. Tookie was a big man, The warden said, But it’s only salt that stops The heart–you know–that simple. But if I say “simple” for example, I mean That in the private gardens Of our aristocracy, the animals are harnessed in Or bled out broad by Day and when they take them down, The children are only very gently Sad, a habit of the class they were born to. Me, I am not “mean,” I’m told, only Vengeful, which is a relief to me, of course. The wind is kicking up now. Lung for lung. Soon I will be done for. On his last night here on earth, he only took milk. Reprinted with permission from Alfred A. Knopf Lucie Brock-Broido is the author of four collections of poetry, including her latest “Stay, Illusion.” She is the Director of Poetry in the School of the Arts at Columbia University in New York. We're not going anywhere. Stand up for truly independent, trusted news that you can count on! Donate now