Amiri Baraka, the poet, playwright, critic, and activist died today. He was 79.

Baraka was one of the first contemporary African-American poets that I discovered in the days when I used to discover new poets. His work plugged a new electricity to my Midwestern brain that I had not previously felt. It was an experience of black American politics and history and engagement that I had never encountered, and I’m thankful to have at least for a minute’s time done so in his work.

I taught Baraka to my students for a few years, in the days when I used to teach literature. The mostly white, mostly suburban classes always responded to his work. You can not read him neutrally. Amiri Baraka means much to many, and I want only to take a moment to appreciate a man whose work I only scratched the surface of.