Basie Allen is a true new New York School Poet. Or better: a BKNY School Poet raised on the Popeyes on Atlantic Avenue, DMX subway elegies, Rocawear, Baudelaire, and “Cy Twomblylylylylylyly shadows.” This poet handles language like a painter. This poet handles language as Richard Pryor would have if he’d made his living writing poems. Palm-Lined with Potience is amazing. I truly have rarely encountered such a singular debut. Basie Allen is the truth.
Terrance Hayes
Basie Allen's poems reside in that place that asks, as he says, to be read "somewhere in between the idea of Rocawear and Baudelaire," a place crowded with resonances and references. Colliding registers and vernaculars so that a line unfolds utterly unexpectedly, sometimes slipping up the conventions of noun and verb, the reader is left with a hiccup that feels like a heartbreak. The sudden swoosh of no rug beneath the feet/feat of language. There is humor, honesty, a notable absence of ironic smirkage. A warmth and a zig zag, a sway in the way of saying. The power of Allen's descriptive phrases is in their precision, a sense of commitment to contour, internal curvature. Worshipful and winking devotion to the work of carving and refining, shaving away at the thing until it reveals the form it wants to, needs to, take. Pigment, poignant, photographic, painterly. Sculptural. These verses both welcome and wrestle with a Black poetics in all the many realms it inhabits and dislocates, cityscape as nature poem. Feelingscape as nature poem. Concrete poetry with an intimate understanding of concrete, the lifetime study of being a city kid. Transported, transportive tongues of verse.
Alex Tatarsky