![]() ![]() Take the opportunity to hear and see the extraordinary poets of our region when we're again able to gather. There are many local poets who I enjoy hearing and seeing: the light transfer of weight from one foot to the other as Tod Marshall walks us through one of his wild, vivid literary journeys the serene eyes and understated voice of Lauren Gilmore that belie the intensity of her words war veteran Seth Marlin, fists at his sides, snarling out seething poems through clenched teeth James Decay, head turned to the side, unable to fully face the tragedy on his page Mark Anderson, with magnificent Medusan ringlets, feet in a closed stance, rubbing his hands together, preparing to deliver another gentle poem that suddenly goes big Thom Caraway's barely concealed smile while reading every poet's dream-come-true, In the Parallel Universe, which ends, "and the crowds go wild." And they do. I can still see his raised eyebrows, or his suddenly pursed lips at a surprise turn in a poem. Facial expressions and body language, even the subtlest of gestures, gave me insights into the meaning of the words. It wasn't just his voice that heightened my experience, either. And although there are plenty of recordings of both Jacobsen and Stafford, whenever I read their poetry, I still hear Grandpa's gravelly voice (apologies, Josephine). Poets Laureate Josephine Jacobsen and William Stafford. I grew up with my grandfather, Don Grant, reading me his poetry, as well as the poetry of some of his friends, including U.S. It's also a pleasure when the poet's life experience is fully audible in the quality of their voice, and so I try to hear them in my head even as I read their poetry from the page: the wisdom and the weariness of the ages in the delivery of Maya Angelou the possessed, outlandish 1920's rapping of Vachel Lindsay the easy brogue of Seamus Heaney the quiet, hypnotic cadence of Nance Van Winckel the disarmingly unpretentious tone of Laura Read conveying her fully armed poems. There's something special about hearing poetry from the source - like a farm-to-table meal, everything grown on-site. In that cantankerous, New England-tinged baritone of his, Robert Frost reminded us that reading poetry to the people mattered to him. This time we're gonna have it right - we're gonna have occasions like this where I'm with my crowd." "But it's a false picture that represents me as always digging potatoes or saying my own poems in the woods. But right now, he's in lockdown like everyone else. I knew J.J., lately of Baltimore and now of the Universe.Chris Cook believes in the power of poetry as a shared, communal experience. If I do, or sort of do, it's crap.Įvery poem by every poet on earth: Genius greatīest poem I've read in months. Here's how: If I don't understand it, it's got to be great. Actually this works for almost anything - poetry, plays, music, performers, architects - anything. I think I've figured out how to tell if a work of art is great. Listed below are links to weblogs that reference Gentle Reader - by Josephine Jacobsen: Comments This poetry drinks me, eats me, gut and marrowĪs beasts' eyes. O God, it peels me, juices me like a press Late in the night when I should be asleep 'Tres chic signs' » ApGentle Reader - by Josephine Jacobsen ![]()
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