From the foreword: I remember the HUN in its infancy. It was really
the idea of Zach Drees, although he'll always contest that I had
some influence on the group's creation. And when it began, I
remember hoping-praying, honestly-that it would become what it
needed to become: a haven for poets of all genres, races,
ethnicities, sexual orientations-everything a broken America
promised it would be to its citizens, everything the fake United
Nations promised, in a way, to the world. The House of United
Nations needed to be willing to not only vigorously write and write
well, but also to perform outreach, mentorship of not only poets,
but people, promotion of poetry in general and good poetry in
particular-all the while being not merely a place, but an idea that
could easily be transported to anywhere in the world. And while the
world hasn't had a chance to sit down with the unique, powerful and
humble voices that make up the HUN, this volume of poems from the
Initiating Class (OHUNIC, nigga) puts the world on notice: The
House of United Nations is here. They are bold. They risk
everything-and I mean everything-with every poem. They are
organized, and willing to promote their craft and the cause of
poetry at the drop of a hat (even a fedora). They work with youth,
regardless of perceived social standing, race or religion. They
despise inequality at every turn. They inspire. They produce. They
eat. They let people I love realize there is value in themselves.
They don't judge. They keep it very, very real. If love were a
terrorist ideal, they would be stone cold terrorists. And I love
every one of them.
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