Back Draft: John Murillo
“The role of the artist,” said Akira Kurosawa, “is not to look away.” In John Murillo’s “Mercy, Mercy Me,” the speaker leaves behind a Los Angeles in flames, but not before giving the rearview mirror a hard glance. This is typical of Murillo’s poetry—attuned to the agonizing realities of what’s transpired, while carrying that dizzying pain into the future. Or, as he puts it: “the world on fire, / and half your head with it.”
I’ve had the pleasure of hanging out with Murillo before, so I approached our conversation as friends. But when he suggested that many poets today don’t exercise enough patience, I gently pushed back. What about those poets who may not have the luxury of time? In characteristic fashion, he took a moment before responding. And his response convinced me.
– Ben Purkert for Guernica
Guernica: What made you decide that “Crips, Bloods, and butterflies” had to be the first line?
When I was a kid, I grew up in a Crip neighborhood. I remember one time walking down the street and I saw a butterfly. I was like 10 years old, so I started chasing it. Then I heard this car. I look over and there’s this car rolling alongside me real slowly. There are these gangbangers in the car and they’re watching me. And they
