Kenneth Fearing and Weldon Kees are often called “noir poets.”
I’m not sure when I first ran across the reference to noir poetry. Several years ago, I read a novel in verse form, The Long Ride by Robin Robertson. I can’t say Robertson was a noir poet so much as he’d written a noir novel as poetry.
Recently, I read another reference, so I decided to find out what it was about. I knew about noir novelists – Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, Mickey Spillane, writers usually associated with crime stories from the 1920s to the 1950s. And noir movies, movies like Notorious, The Postman Always Rings Twice, The Maltese Falcon, Strangers on a Train, Laura, Double Indemnity, and Sunset Boulevard. (My favorite noir movie, though, was released in 1974 – Chinatown, with Jack Nicholson and Faye Dunaway.
But noir poetry?
Yes, as it turns out.
Kenneth Fearing
And two poets often called noir poets were Kenneth Fearing (1902-1961) and Weldon Kees (1914-1955).
In addition to being a poet, Fearing was also a journalist for a short time and a crime writer, writing both novels and stories for pulp fiction magazines. (He used a pseudonym for his crime writing; then, as now, poetry didn’t pay the bills.) He published several poetry collections and several novels, one of which, The Big Clock, was made into a successful movie of the “film noir” school.
Reading Fearing’s poems is like stepping into a time capsule. His poetry embraces popular culture of the years he was writing– marketing, advertising, slogans, and popular songs. This poem was included in Fearing’s Angel Arms collection, published in 1929.
Lithographing
These are the live,
Not silhouettes or dead men.
That dull murmur is their tread on the street.
Those brass quavers are their shouts.
Here is the wind blowing through the crowded square.
Here is the violence and secret change.
And these are figures of life beneath the sea.
These are the lovely women
And the exhilarations that die.
Here is a stone lying on the side-walk
In the shadow of the wall.
Hey? What saith the noble poet now.
Drawing his hand across his brow?
Claude, is the divine afflatus upon you?
Hey? Hey Claude?
Here are a million taxi drivers, social prophets,
The costume for an attitude,
A back-stage shriek,
The heat and speed of the earth.
Here is a statue of Burns,
There is the modern moon.
That song is the latest dance.
Hey? Of what doth the noble poet brood
In a tragic mood?
Lithography was a printing process invented in the 19th century; think Currier & Ives and all of those posters made by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. In the 20th century, and particularly at the time Fearing was writing, it was being used by serious artists, like Edvard Munch, the German Expressionists, Henri Matisse, Pablo Picasso, and Diego Rivera.
Fearing’s poems are full of cultural references, but they also have a strong sense of the dark side of humanity, likely sharing themes with his crime novels and thrillers. Like many writers of his day, he was oriented against “the system” and toward the proletariat. He was known as one of the “proletariat poets,” sharing a political philosophy common to such writers as Dashiell Hammett.
Weldon Kees
Weldon Kees was a poet, short story writer, and essayist and reviewer for publications like Time, The Nation, and The New Republic. He was also an artist (abstract expressionism), photographer, and pianist. He published three poetry collections during his lifetime; his Collected Poems was first published five years after his reported death.
Kees is likely considered a “noir poet” because of his overall themes. He wrote dark poems, and “dark” is the one that kept coming to mind as I read the Collected Poems. You think of empty, almost threatening landscapes, whether rural or urban. This poem, which almost reaches a hopeful state, changes completely with the last line.
The Forests
And the traveler
stumbles in darkness, hearing
beasts in the forest, fearing
the pitfalls, pitch-black ditches,
the brambles. Dread
in his heart: and the air
whispering death:
and his brain strangled.
But along the path:
a torch! The soaked pine
blazes, blinding the night.
The grateful seizing, and he feels
the fear half-gone, and sees
the pathway clear. And then at last,
the sun’s slow rise from the night:
cold fragile light that streaks
across the timber. And the way
uncertain still. All night
he’d known that they were there:
knew they were waiting there:
waiting for him. But then at dawn,
emerging from the forest,
he felt his heart at peace.
The day! Alive with brightness!
Wonderful to be alive!
Then he thought of the other forests beyond…
Kees’ life came to resemble almost a noir novel. He left New York City for San Francisco. Where he focused on photography and piano; his photographs were used in a collaborative book called Nonverbal Communication. But in July of 1955, his car was found abandoned near the Golden Gate Bridge, implying suicide or foul play. His body was never found. Had he killed himself? Kees had also talked of chucking everything and moving to Mexico.
Can I define noir poetry from these two poets? Not precisely. But I can say that the poetry of Fearing and Kees does have a strong affinity for film noir and fiction noir. It’s the poetry of shadowy urban streets, expectations rarely met, surprises around every corner. It is dark, with a dark view of human nature. It can be riveting to read, just like film noir can be riveting to watch. It doesn’t always have two men bursting through the door with guns (Raymond Chandler’s phrase). But it does have a sense of emptiness and of nothing being what it seems. I can see Dashiell Hammett reading it.
Fade to dark.
Photo by Bob Denaro, Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Glynn Young.
How to Read a Poem uses images like the mouse, the hive, the switch (from the Billy Collins poem)—to guide readers into new ways of understanding poems. Anthology included.
“I require all our incoming poetry students—in the MFA I direct—to buy and read this book.”
—Jeanetta Calhoun Mish
- Noir Poetry: Kenneth Fearing and Weldon Kees - January 29, 2026
- The Friend Who Turned Out to Be a Poet - January 27, 2026
- The Poetry of Gregory Corso - January 22, 2026
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