Over the holidays I got around to reading Brand New Ancients by Kae Tempest. I’m not even sure how I became aware of it, only that it was revealed to me at some depth of the deep (deep) rabbit hole of exploring what kind of poetry I most enjoy—and it turns out: yes, this.
I can’t put my finger on why some forms of poetry simply don’t move me, but I can tell you that poetry rooted in the oral traditions does. I can tell you that poetry intended to be read aloud does. Poetry that need not rhyme; that need not be overly brief or clever (I am neither).
The most wonderful part of discovering this poem—this poem intended to be read aloud—is that you can listen to the author themselves read it aloud. Doing so changes the poem. It changes how you receive it. Changes the energy of it. I’ve listened through twice already.
It appears that the audio version is only licensed for release in the U.K. so you might have to use a VPN to get your hands on it, but it’s worth the minimal effort for you to do so. If you can’t, it’s worth reading it aloud yourself. The poem isn’t complete, I think, until it’s read aloud.
I feel so fortunate to have stumbled on this poem and to have enjoyed the author reading it themselves. I’m reading Emily Wilson’s translation of The Odyssey because I read Brand New Ancients. The rabbit hole continues—which is the other wonderful gift of great works.