Patrick Sylvain is a Haitian-American educator, poet, writer, social and literary critic, and translator who has published widely on Haiti and Haitian diaspora culture, politics, language, and religion. He is the author of several poetry books in English and Haitian, and his poems have been nominated for the prestigious Pushcart Prize. His work has been published in several anthologies, academic journals, books, magazines, and reviews including: African American Review, Agni, American Poetry Review, Callaloo, Chicago Quarterly Review, Ploughshares, Prairie Schooner, Transition, and The Caribbean Writer. Sylvain has degrees from the University of Massachusetts (BA), Harvard University (EdM), Boston University (MFA), and Brandeis University (PhD, English), where he was the Shirle Dorothy Robbins Creative Writing Prize Fellow. Sylvain has served as a lecturer at Brown University, Harvard University, and Brandeis University. He is an Assistant Professor in Global/Transnational/Postcolonial Literature at Simmons University, and also serves as a member of the History and Literature Tutorial Board at Harvard. His poetry chapbook, Underworlds, was published by Central Square Press in 2018, and he was a featured poet on Benjamin Boone’s Poetry and Jazz CD The Poets are Gathering (2020). Sylvain is the lead author of Education Across Borders: Immigration, Race, and Identity in the Classroom published by Beacon Press (2022), and his academic book—Scorched Pearl of Antilles: A Critique of Haiti’s Political Leadership—is under contract with Palgrave Macmillan. His most recent bilingual poetry collection, Unfinished Dreams/Rèv San Bout, was published by JEBCA Editions (2024).
Patrick Sylvain
It’s fitting, like a cold ricochet of grief,
I’m here the day the clocks fall back.
After years of shelter, when I fed you
the empty promises of a quieter world,
holding you steady,
November 6th, 2024_USA
Tonight, a peculiar wind prowls the streets,
restless as my mind, which hungers for sleep,
yet lingers on the jagged edges of fractured dreams.
"Look toward the horizon," you always said,
"even when it trembles like a distant mirage."
Amer Ick KK
America is a pinball machine,
hungry eyes tracking a silver ball.
Red, white, and blue Frankenstein lights
flicker in tunnels.
Amazon Villanelle
As the Amazon burns, my love, my words
choke on the morsels of a world in strife.
The knife, my love, Bolsonaro is burning logs.
Amazonia
I’m lost in the world of poetry in search
of Amazonia’s old emerald green heart. Ancient
arteries forming labyrinths of towering canopies,
gone. My eyes shocked by a sea of desolation.
Gaia Africanus
Gaia, how could I mourn something
I never truly knew? My father
told me of his delight after drinking
clear cold water from pristine brooks
HAPPY, OKAY?
M.J. Fievre's latest work, Happy, Okay?, is described as “poems about anxiety, depression, hope, and survival.” On the one hand, labelling it as poetry might deter some readers who claim they "don't read poetry".
Fellow Travelers
I am on the other side
of your time, dearest fellow
travelers of the African diaspora.
With my black eyes, like Osiris,
Indignation (in three parts)
Black lives
shattered
like jackhammered rocks.
Blow by blow
the hammer
of revulsion—
scatters dreams
A Magician’s Reality
When you wake up, darling,
know that your dream was not hacked.