Rachel “Raych” Jackson—National Poetry Month 2020

Rachel "Raych" Jackson performing.

O.K.  It’s time to shake things up.  So far our National Poetry Month entries have skewed older, mostly Boomers like the proprietor of this pop stand and exclusively white.  But that does not reflect the diversity of voices in contemporary poetry.  We will start with a Chicago slam poet whose work has gone from the printed page to vivid performance art.

Rachel “Raych” Jackson is a writer, educator,  and performer who while teaching third and fourth grade in Chicago Public Schools competed on numerous national poetry teams and in individual competitions. Her poems have gained over 2 million views on YouTube. She is the 2017 National Underground Poetry Invitational Competition (NUPIC) Champion and a 2017 Pink Door fellow. Jackson voiced DJ Raych in the Jackbox game, Mad Verse City and Tiffany in Battu, an upcoming animation. Her latest play, Emotions & Bots, premiered at the Woerdz Festival in Lucerne, Switzerland. 

Jackson wrote a room dedicated to her city for 29Rooms’ first installment in Chicago, through Refinery 29. She co-created and co-hosts Big Kid Slam, a monthly poetry show in Chicago. Jackson’s work has been published by many journals including Poetry Magazine, The Rumpus, The Shallow Ends, and Washington Square Review. Her debut collection Even the Saints Audition was recently published  Button Poetry and was named Best New Poetry Collection by a Chicagoan in the Chicago Reader in the fall of 2019. 

First up, from the printed page in Flypaper Poetry Issue V.

Pantoum for Derrion Albert from the Plank

In September 2009 Derrion Albert’s murder was caught on tape.  The video spread through the world quicker than the Southside of Chicago could be gentrified through the Olympic bid.  Killers are shown kicking Derrion in the face and smashing his head with a wooden plank.


His hands were soft on my hips.
We were brown together.
How often does that happen?
Wooden individuals shaped and dyed
to look the same as them. Brown like the next.
We all look the same to them. Brown like the next.
Sturdy.

Wooden individuals shaped and dyed
to look the same as them. Brown like the next.
There are many uses for a snatched tree.
Easy to be broken and passed around.
Each ring tells achievements of sorts.
Sturdy.
He needed a capable dancer.

There are many uses for a snatched tree.
Easy to be broken and passed around.
Each ring tells achievements of sorts.
A partner whose spine can bend
with the grace of politicians tongues
built on corroding law enforcement.
He needed a capable dancer.
I’m someone that will sacrifice my body
spreading through skulls.

A partner whose spine bend
with the grace of politicians tongues
built on corroding law enforcement.
We danced to the music made that day.
A slow melody assembled
from the dull connection with heads and
shrieks carrying his name.
I’m someone that will sacrifice my body
spreading through skulls.
Admire me.
Focus on me.
I beat them all.

We danced to the music made that day.
A slow melody assembled
from the dull connection with heads and
shrieks carrying his name.
We all look the same to them. Brown like the next.
Admire me.
Focus on me.
I beat them all.
His hands were soft on my hips.
We were brown together.
How often does that happen?

—Rachel “Raych” Jackson

As good as that piece is, a poetry slam artist must be seen and heard.  This is from her award winning turn at the 2017 National Underground Poetry Invitational Competition in Denver.