Kevin Young

speaker

1,056 appearances 8 recordings 4 series first heard Feb 2026 last heard 26 Aug

Kevin Young’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.

Trend

recordings per month · last 12 months

Recordings per month over the last 12 months — 8 in all, peaking in Apr 2026 with 2.

Appearances

newest first · ▶ plays the moment

The New Yorker: Poetry · Richard Blanco Reads Elizabeth Bishop · 29 Jul 2026 podcast

And it's a different—rather than questions of travel, it's kind of an insistence on belonging, let's say.

And I think that's really powerful.

And also, you know, it almost—in conversation with Bishop, it makes you think, well—

bishops can be strange she's allowed to go wherever she wishes in a way i mean she has limits but like we all do but she is there's a kind of power that she has just as an observer and he doesn't exactly get to do that you know like you as poet are the inheritor who gets to observe you know and he has to as he does in the beginning act and then experience sleep neon glass i mean the vernacular of new york city i love that line sleep neon glass that that like

nails, in three words, the kind of feeling of a New York winter or of a New York street.

And then after what I'm going to call the hinge of him speaking, there's your reflection about that, you know, tried to master the language he chose to master him.

That's such an interesting way to phrase what we were talking about.

The husband who refused to say I love you in English is

What does that mean to you now, seeing it in black and white as it were?

Do you think of that as your mother tongue or, you know, native language or how do you think of that?

Because it is a bilingual poem.

It is a poem about switching, about, you know, at the end, our readers may know already, but hearing it, thank you slash gracias, you know, like you have those kind of slashes and that's sort of where the poet

exists as well, you're saying.

Sure, sure.

Well, and I love that Bishop's poem ends with a kind of translation of her stepping back and the traveler recording in her notebook.

And this poem is so aware of it and of that kind of idea.

I love that both of your poems let in other speakers and voices.

But at the end, do you feel like he –

isn't translated or is this poem the act of true translation for him?

Is this a reparation of that or a memorial?

Showing 381–400 of 1,056 · page 20 of 53