I just got back from the West Chester University Poetry Conference and I am immensely tired, emotionally and physically, so I'll have to write later about the enlightened and enlightening conversations, about finally meeting Jilly Dybka, about having lunch with Lewis Turco, about being hugged by Rhina Espaillat, about the wonderfully talented poets and critics I met at meals, in the dorm, and in Tim Steele's very fine workshop, about Dana Gioia and Paul Salerni's new opera Tony Caruso's Last Broadcast, about Anthony Hecht and Paul Lake on the Religion and Poetry panel, about the extraordinary readings by Tim, Rhina, Lew, Sam Gwynn, Fred Chappell (he read only his student's work, and it was wonderful), Diane Thiel, Mark Jarman, Emily Grosholz, Molly Peacock, B. H. Fairchild, David Yezzi, Robert Darling, Meg Schoerke, Marilyn Nelson (a heroic crown of sonnets for Emmett Till), Glyn Maxwell, Kim Addonizio with her harmonica (Fairchild said "I know I'm supposed to give a poetry reading, but I feel like I should take a cold shower"), H. L. Hix, and David Mason. After things like marrying Deana or watching my daughter's birth, the last four days were among the best of my life. So I'm feeling charitable.
I've suggested before that Jonathan Mayhew doesn't understand how to read metrical poetry by people born after about 1930, and, after all, he did provide a link to the complete poem, so it is possible that he simply doesn't know how to read Tim Steele's rather beautiful "Toward the Winter Solstice." But, while I'm feeling charitable, some advice, Jonathan—the next time you want to talk trash about a poem, don't post just the second of five stanzas by someone who understands modulation and dynamics.
4:46:17 PM
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