Poet's Notebook
Reflections on Time
Is time really running out? Or is time running in? Am I not accumulating time over decades, over years? Am I not adding a higher number to each passing year? Am I not storing time as memory events in an unsafety deposit box called the mind. As long there is motion, as...
A Poem & the Hubble Space Telescope
What are the similarities between the Hubble Space Telescope and a poem. The obvious answer is none. No similarities. One is a complex scientific instrument made of metal and silicon letting us see far into the cosmos. The other is a form of literature, made of...
Thinking Through the Poem Adam and Eve Imagine What’s Next
I love words. Long words. Short words. One syllable words are fine but so are multiple syllable words. Words carry meaning. ‘Cat’ represents – (re-presents – makes present again) a feline mammal. You can have ‘cat’ in a sentence without having a cat in the room. ...
The Subjects Poets Choose
In regard to subject matter, poets should limit themselves to everything.
Explication of “Low”
When reading a poem, the first thing that comes to mind is the obvious. This poem is obviously about two persons walking through trees. One ducks under a fallen tree trunk, straightens up too soon, and bangs his balding head. A quick vignette. A slight...
First Function of Poetry
The first function of poetry is to reveal an experience of the world through the language of experience.
The Unknown
Resist with all your might the temptation to know the unknown. It cannot be done and should not be attempted. Know all the facts you need to know. Facts are useful. The unknown is not useful, it is absolutely essential. The unknown is the boundary against which we...
Poetry Is a Mode of Thinking
Before poetry is a form of art it is a mode of thinking. Thinking requires the use of words. We think with words in two ways; literal, each word having a precise meaning, and figurative, each word suggesting relationships with things beyond the literal meaning. All...
In Praise of Dimensionality
July 24, 2019, 4:00 in the afternoon. I am sitting in my garden facing the three-dimensional space of my backyard. Horizontally it is deep and wide. Vertically it is sky high. At night the stars and moon appear in my sky. Now I look across the lawn into shadows...
The Poet and the Condom
In the early spring of 1966 I worked at the 'Sow on its Back,' nickname for Northwestern University’s Deering Library in Evanston, Illinois. I was stationed at a table at the entrance to the stacks admitting those who had a proper pass, sending away those who did...
Homer on the Beach
I am reading Homer on the Fort DeSoto Beach in St. Petersburg, Florida. Actually a book about Homer: Why Homer Matters by Adam Nicolson. (Picador/2014) A rich read making The Iliad and The Odyssey even more beautifully terrifying. It is a perfect beach book. The...
Seasonal Felicitations
It is Christmas and the cold world jangles attempting joy. This is a season of blurred lines: God appears out of character in a baby boy body, a fat elf descends down a hundred million too tight chimneys with gifts for girls and boys, many of whom have too much...
Poet’s Notebook: Smohalla
Smohalla's reverse Wisdom While reading this summer I came upon this odd quotation from Smohalla, (1815-1895) a dreamer-prophet of the Wanapum tribe, a branch of the Nez Pierce people located in what is now the state of Washington. “My young men shall never work. Men...
A Poet’s Notebook: MEN
Last night I hosted nine men at my home. This men's group has been meeting monthly since 1986. Over those thirty two years one has moved away, four have died, and five have been welcomed in. We do not talk sports, cars, or work. We generally steer clear of...
Poet’s Notebook: AWOL
Disaster! I lost my writing notebook, two hundred pages of jumbled jottings, ink splashed in jags across paper, an accumulation of sparsely parsed ideas, an entire battalion of notes gone AWOL, as good as losing six months of my mind.
Poet’s Notebook: Hole in the Ocean . . .
Writing poetry is digging a hole in the ocean, shovelful by shovelful, word by word. ____________________________________________________________ Digging a hole in the ocean with a shovel is impossible. I know. I tried it as a kid on the beach at Montauk Point, Long...
Poet’s Notebook: Poetry is . . .
Poetry is . . . an odd look at an ordinary sight with ordinary words used oddly to describe it.
Poet’s Notebook: Euphonious
I received mild pushback on the word euphonious used in the tooth fairy poem posted yesterday. Euphonious is a word seldom used in ordinary speech. Never used might not overstate the case. The Greeks gave us this word for ‘good sound’ that actually sounds beautiful....