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« New Mexico: Rift, Poetry, Refuge [by Joy Jacobson] | Main | Denise Duhamel, Maureen Seaton, & more: 2015 titles from Sibling Rivalry Press. »

January 28, 2014


So true, Joy.
I'm hoping you will help spread the word about a new poetry venue,, now looking for readers and writers. Please help light verse go viral! Thanks,

Thanks, Joy, for giving me so much to think about! Poetry as a means of reworking despair. That one-word assignment resulting in your Mobius-strip-like poem "Impossible." I particularly like your definition of a poem as "one person's strangeness talking to a stranger's strangeness." There is something within us that can't speak, and your definition makes me think of how it strives anyway. Sometimes to be heard, against all odds!

Dear friend,
Ah-ha! But not entirely. I wish that, like The Writer's Almanac, your blogs could be recorded so that I could listen to them, again and again, on my nightly rounds. But then that is part of your "sometimes-disabling fear of verbal expression." But as I read you I do hear your voice.
Idiolect, indeed!

I think poets' brains are wired similarly. Something about language and music turns up our neurotransmitters more so than in say, a scientist. Joy, I don't know you but it seems we have some similarities. I graduated from the New School, write poetry, taught nurses, edited a health care mag, and was a physician. I was dysgraphic as a child ( receiving my one C in handwriting) and my oldest son has an amplified version of my dysgraphia. Surgeons would tell me to hold the needle driver like a "normal person." (Lol) And verbal expression makes my thoughts pile up like a highway accident. I've followed this blog for years and this is the first I've commented on a post. Thank you for our "impossible" meeting and for the familiar assignment. My one word poem: Miss

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That Ship Has Sailed
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"Lively and affectionate" Publishers Weekly


I left it
on when I
left the house
for the pleasure
of coming back
ten hours later
to the greatness
of Teddy Wilson
"After You've Gone"
on the piano
in the corner
of the bedroom
as I enter
in the dark

from New and Selected Poems by David Lehman


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