Jamie, once again I’m strumming the low
latitudes, plucking dark lines
like harp strings—oblivion’s
tropical melody. All morning I’ve been drinking
the wide blue sky: cliché heaped upon cliché—
each atom complicit, each molecule a temple
of triteness, a dull world.
But this green sea is a global original,
an inimitable canvas. And beyond the epic
reef that stretches like a marine spine
toward Belize: the zillion
hotels of Cozumel—a zillion fangs
in the jaw of the horizon, the horizon
speckled with cruise ships fatter
and no doubt more festive than my hometown. …
Read the rest here!
That’s Pulitzer Prize-winner Jorie Graham, y’all. She was the big focus in my first, and likely only, cover story for the Harvard Gazette. You can read it here.
She was gracious and frantic, like most creative types, myself included. I was scared as hell to meet her, I must admit; our email exchanges were a bit flighty, and she was skeptical about having me sit-in on some of her student rehearsals for a big poetry recitation she’s set up for April 29. Then we met, and she said I had a strong psychic presence, and I swooned. She’s amazing.
I also met and interviewed the inimitable poetry critic Helen Vendler, who regaled me with many fun stories I couldn’t fit into the piece. When I sent the finished product to her for clearing, she had edited the whole thing (even though I told her the article’s next stop was the Gazette’s in-house editor). “Wunderkinds,” she wrote to me, “is not the plural of wunderkind.” I’ll never forget that.
The year is winding down. So much is happening. I’ve been interviewing for a job that could land me in Mexico indefinitely. Cross your fingers. Anything could happen in 44 days!