Not to bask too much in the glow of this venue, but I have always loved these mix tapes David Lehman and Editor give us every year. I started reading as a high school student in 1992 (Charles Simic), and I've sought them out every year since (no worries, I've worked backwards too). 1994 (A.R. Ammons), 1997 (James Tate), 2001 (Robert Hass), and 2011 (Kevin Young) all floored me. Thank you, Terrance Hayes, for Major Jackson, Donald Revell, Cate Marvin, and on and on, this past year (thanks to them too, and the magazines that noticed their poems). I love these books. They put poetry in people's lives, in both populist and subversive ways, and they put the names of magazines and poets and editors in front of people's faces. They're beautifully made books, they feel good in the hand, they're artifacts, and what's more, I want to read them every year. I love it when someone makes me a mix.
So needless to say, this week has been fun for me. And it’s probably time for me to tell you, with all due respect to all the poets and editors over the years, what the BEST poem in the BEST edition of The Best American Poetry is:
“Being Pharaoh" by Beckian Fritz Goldberg, 1995 (Richard Howard)
Because it came to me when I needed it. I picked the book up in a library, flipped to this poem, and thought, well, I need this in my life.
Because it made me learn about Beckian Fritz Goldberg.
Because I feel like it's a breaking-up-with-something poem that's mostly about something else.
Because I kind of feel like the speaker is the you in "Refugee" by Tom Petty. You don't have to live like a refugee, you're just kind of choosing to; no offense.
Because of the medical words and terms and images, the oxygen mask hissing, and because the nature stuff is vague and weirdly put: the feather trees across / the river, the curious shore dog.
Because it taught me about smart line breaks: Tonight I am sick of every man / and his past. And the past is tired of his / request that it love him
Because of that personification of "the past" right there.
Because she describes the soul as gelatinous. Rather, she describes her image of the soul as a child as a glass / wing, fluted, gelatinous, detached / as my voice under water... I understand every single bit of that.
Because of the power trip of being an actual pharaoh, and the fact that no one is actually being a pharaoh. They're just trying.
Because it made me learn about Field.
Because it made me learn about Richard Howard and Richard Howard's poems! Thank you, Richard Howard. The entire 1995 edition is, as previously stated, the official best Best American Poetry. All the Beats and references to them in the poems, your acceptance of "longish" poems, the ending of Nicholas Christopher's poem ("Terminus"), your assertion that "our poetry is the myth by which we live and love and have our seeing." Thank you for Aaron Fogel's "The Printer's Error" from The Stud Duck, thank you for John Koethe and Charles H. Webb and Margaret Atwood. Thanks for it all.
Because it came to me when I needed it. Like the rest of these books. See my dog-eared pages here:
I LOVE THIS POST! Like many others have probably done, I took down the volume and reread "Being Pharaoh" then other favorites in the book, then other volumes. What a great way to spend the morning. Thank you Amy for a terrific week. I hope you will consider a return engagement.
Posted by: Stacey | March 21, 2015 at 10:20 AM
Amy, it's been an excellent week of posts, for which many thanks -- and all the more so for the meticulous attention you have given to BAPs past. Your words brought back many happy memories of working with the guest editors you name (Ammons, Howard, Tate, Hass, Young, et al) and the pleasure of discovering poems in magazines that make me want to perpetuate them.
I happen to owe a great debt to librarians, who educated me through grade school and high school. It's important work. Thanks, too, for that. -- DL
Posted by: The Best American Poetry | March 21, 2015 at 12:02 PM