My Favorite Prison Writing, Part 1: Miguel Pinero

A personal guide to the underrated American literature

The 2 million citizens incarcerated at any given time has become a subset of American culture, and what I want to discuss is the impact on literature. Talk to anyone who’s been locked up, and they will tell you about the boredom and monotony—literally “doing time.” “Do the time, don’t let the time do you”—is an old aphorism. Occupying yourself mentally is critical to keeping your sanity and humanity, and one of the ways it’s often done is by turning your sentence into the worst writer’s retreat ever.

This won’t be a complete list of all the prison writers; it will be ones that are my favorites. And it’s going to be all men. I am literally asking for names/recommendations of women/transgender prison writers. Please help me out! Maybe we’ll come up with a better, more inclusive list together. Also, I’m not doing a deep dive on the research, so I will probably leave out a book or two or get a detail wrong. Let me know and I’ll amend it. I just want to get this out.

This list will also favor an era in which prisoners were allowed to have manual typewriters in their cells. Imagine the echoes and the noises.

Miguel Pinero

Best known for: Short Eyes, a play.

The book you should get: Outlaw: The Collected Works of Miguel Pinero

Miguel Pinero, sometimes called “Mikey” by old New York City poets, was a key figure in the ‘70s and ‘80s spoken word scene. He’s one of the first poets referred to as “Nuyorican,” a portmanteau of New York and Puerto Rican; those identifying not as one or the other but celebrating the combination. It’s my opinion¹ that a lot of the sing-songy slam style poems that are still being written date back to him, that he is the Poet Zero of that style. He is also an award-winning playwright and sold screenplays and teleplays to Hollywood. A lot of his writing was done in cyclical stays in Sing Sing.

Miguel Pinero. Year unknown

Miguel was a heroin addict in the Lower East Side of New York when that was a different place. His arrests were all in relation to his drug use or something he did to support his drug use. He possessed, he stole, he scammed. Whatever. Not the point here, point being, he was nicked often.

Miguel wrote plays that he put on in Sing Sing using inmates and whatever props they could make at hand. This was done for entertainment purposes as well as for his own protection—no one is going to fuck with the guy that keeps them all amused. Pinero tended to cast the inmates who were also the romantic partners of the shotcallers. For this, he also received contraband² and further protection.

The most notable play he wrote is called Short Eyes, which is prison slang for a child molester (see also: Chester and cho-mo). Short Eyes’ plot is that a man comes into a prison and the rumor is that he may be a child molester. If he is, the other convicts will kill him. Think 12 Angry Men but with a death penalty that will come at the hands of the jurors. They have to decide whether he is or not so they can mete out their justice.

Short Eyes was a big hit, not only behind bars, but it got out of the institution and won an Obie award for the Best American Play in 1974. It was produced by Joseph Papp at the Public Theater. I’ve heard that it premiered while Pinero was still locked up, but can’t confirm this at all. But the Obie is what really put Pinero on the literary map.

Pinero became a subcultural celebrity, doing a lot of poetry readings and putting on other one-act plays in New York City. He wrote for Hollywood and optioned his writing. This both liberated Miguel and enabled a lot more drug use. By all accounts, he was generous with both his money and his drugs when he was holding.

Miguel Algarin, another New York Puerto Rican poet, opened up the Nuyorican Poet’s Cafe more or less to give Pinero and some of their other friends a place to hang out—rumor was that they were always coming to Algarin’s house and disturbing his family at all hours of the night, so this was Algarin’s solution. While this was not where poetry slams were born³, it was definitely the launchpad that shot slams into mainstream culture. The style that was prevalent in that venue was a direct descendent of Pinero’s poetics.

But Pinero’s addictions would catch up with him, and he would run out of money, and do something to get money, get caught, and get locked back up. Once inside, he would write until he got out. He would sell/perform the writing he did while inside and have money. Lather, rinse, repeat. It was definitely not a sustainable creative process.

Death & Legacy

Pinero died at 41 years old in 1988. This is right around when i got involved heavily in the spoken word world, and heard about him spoken in the half-mourning/half-bragging tones by the older poets who claimed to have gotten high with him or seen him in some place in Lower East Side or whatever. He was some guy I knew nothing about but didn’t want to let on that I was ignorant.

He died of complications due to his deteriorating health from AIDS. Pinero, though having many male lovers (and maybe no heterosexual relationships), denied being gay by the logic that he was the one doing the fucking⁴. He’s not included in the gay canon, probably for this internalized homophobia. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him mentioned in an LGBTQ context.

Pinero leaves behind 400+ pages of work in the aforementioned book, Outlaw. You can read this in one vacation, and become an expert. He’s an American original, a true voice of his own, and very influential on many others.

My Takeaway

I love his poetry so much, although mine sounds nothing like his. I love his engagement and the how the poetry really comes alive when he performs it. And while he rhymes it never feels forced, nor is he married to form and structure. I have always felt like a douche when I rhymed in a poem. It’s usually just so horrible. But I like his.

His plays are filled with normal people talking in natural language, which really encourages my overall literary philosophy that you should only use words that you really use: write like you talk—there is beautiful language around you all the time, but you have to honor and recognize it. There’s one called Paper Toilet that takes place completely in a public bathroom. Some of the best titles ever: The Sun Always Shines for the Cool and Eulogy for a Small-Time Thief.

Other Resources

Please check out this and other video clips to hear his performative style

All Poetry’s Miguel Pinero Page has a lot of his poems.

1. Poets will argue this, but it’s like asking who is the best point guard of all time. How do you compare Marques Haynes to Allen Iverson?

2. This is a prime example of stories other poets told me that I have no way to verify. I do know people who went to prison and just shot dope the whole time. If you have anything of value to trade in there, you can get pretty much whatever you want.

3. That’s the Green Mill in Chicago.

4. This is a common sexual philosophy in prison.