Like held lanterns, wavering*

I use to read up to 200 poems a week. I was active on some online poetry forums, for a while I was a moderator at a couple of these. I was active in real life poetry groups and prompt groups, I helped find funding and organize readings and workshops. I bought and checked out books of poetry, studied anthologies, encountered poets and found everything I could of theirs online and in print.  I had books of poetry around the house and in the car and whenever a moment of waiting occurred, I had a book of poems. I took poetry books to the gym sometimes gasping, with tears in my eyes, at some work which should have never been paired with an elliptical – but there you go. 

I thought about all of this as I opened a book of poems Monday by Jane Hirshfield, The October Palace, from 1994. I’m not sure where I got this copy, a book sale or a poetry event. It’s a used book and I hadn’t opened it until now. There are pages with holes, not formatted with huge amount of white space, but lines and stanzas that have just disappeared. On one page a title and the last two words of the poem remain. It’s quite something, but it made me realize that in the good old poetry days I would have found this a day or two after picking the book up. I would have sat down somewhere and opened it up, dipped in, read aloud. It tells me I need to read more, more poetry for sure. I’ve been sprinkling books around the house, opening them at random and reading. I’ve missed this and I’ve been negligent.

Last night I was able to hear a William Stafford Birthday reading sponsored by the Southern Oregon University Hannon Library. I was invited by the event host, a poetry pal from Oregon and there were poets I know and admire who read both their work and a poem by William Stafford. It was really very nice, wonderful to see and hear these poets. And I loved being at a reading in my nightgown. Part of the residual wonderfulness is that today another poet I know from Oregon has sent me an invitation to a reading next week. It has made me feel warm and connected. I may not care for Zoom workshops but the readings are good, good, good.

Here’s poem by Jack Gilbert. Be safe, be kind, in the words of another poet I listened to recently, the Trump Epoch is almost over.

*Jane Hirshfield, At Nightfall, from The October Palace