Contributors

Quincy Troupe
Contributor History

Biography
Quincy Troupe
Quincy Troupe is the author of twenty books, including ten volumes of poetry and three children’s books. His awards include the Paterson Award for Sustained Literary Achievement, the Milt Kessler Poetry Award, three American Book Awards, the Gwendolyn Brooks Poetry Award, a Lifetime Achievement Award from Furious Flower, and the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History Award, January 25, 2018, in Detroit, Michigan. His writings have been translated into over thirty languages.

Troupe’s latest books of poems are
Seduction and a book-length poem, Ghost Voices, published by TriQuarterly/Northwestern University Press. He is coauthor, with Miles Davis, of Miles: The Autobiography, and author of Miles and Me, a chronicle of his friendship with Miles Davis, reissued in 2018 by Seven Stories Press and scheduled for release in 2020 as a major motion picture for which Mr. Troupe wrote the screenplay. Also forthcoming from Seven Stories are Duende: Poems from 1966 Until Now (fall 2020) and a memoir, The Accordion Years, in 2021.

Quincy Troupe is Professor Emeritus from the University of California, San Diego. He edits
Black Renaissance Noire, a literary and culture journal published by the Institute of African American Affairs at New York University. He lives in Harlem with his wife, Margaret Porter Troupe.

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In Print

Vol. 76
Fortieth Anniversary Issue
Spring 2021
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

October 27, 2021
I stretch into
a shape. Do as I’m told

in plastics. Each mold

is a house
is an ocean but

only now do I know
his death was never some renewable

substance. The whale sank away––

out of contact ... 
October 20, 2021
Launch

codes, we stripped species,
            our insecure
hands of gloves
to crack the test           to our capitalizable
future. Pray
            for the multiverse I’m working on
at midnight.
October 13, 2021
Forgive us. We were waiting
here, in the thickening ice. We worked a long time. Now
we try to give what we found, a little basket
hiding behind each back, full of the young shoots.
They are so green. Mercifully green. We say so. Yes,
they are alive, we say. We, too. We are still sick.
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