Tyree Daye's Cardinal is a generous atlas that serves as a poetic
"Green Book"-- the travel-cum-survival guide for black motorists
negotiating racist America in the mid-twentieth century. Interspersed
with images of Daye's family and upbringing, which have been
deliberately blurred, it also serves as an imperfect family album.
Cardinal traces the South's burdened interiors and the interiors of a
black male protagonist attempting to navigate his many departures and
returns home --a place that could both lovingly rear him and coolly
annihilate him. With the language of elegy and praise, intoning regional
dialect and a deliberately disruptive cadence, Daye carries the voices
of ancestors and blues poets, while stretching the established zones of
the black American vernacular. In tones at once laden and magically
transforming, he self-consciously plots his own Great Migration: "if you
see me dancing a twos step/I'm sending a starless code/we're escaping
everywhere." These are poems to be read aloud.