Years ago, while I was away at a summer arts camp, my best friend sent me a book of poetry. In the front, my friend wrote about our friendship--it's value to him. The book? Debt by Mark Levine. I was young and stupid, and I didn't realize the debt I owed my friend. I focused less on Levine's words and more on my friend's words, his handwriting. Like I said, I was away from home. I was young and stupid.
What joy, the other morning, when I discovered this column by Stephen Burt:
http://bostonreview.net/BR34.3/burt.php
The journey went something like this: poems.org / November 13, 2009 / Angie Estes and her book Tryst / Oberlin College Press / A review by Burt / Googling Stephen Burt / Boston Review.
Hey, I'm not as well read as I should be, and I won't pretend. Basically, I get curious. Then I go read. I wasn't moved by Estes work, but it's form made me curious. Off I went.
Thanks to Burt, I now have this other context for the book, for the gift. I didn't realize it's place in language poetry. Today, I think that I'll re-read (and re-consider) Debt. If you haven't read Burt's column, get to it. Ever wonder what's going on in poetry? Here's one answer. Yes, to some degree what he's bringing to our attention has always been an important element in poetry. However, the way he suggests that the new thing stems in a way from words used by Tony Hoagland--the idea of "inscription"--feels, at least to me, sharp. Is that where things are? Where they're headed? Hey, why not? I mean, what meant more to me? The book, or what my friend inscribed the book?
As for my friend, I will never question his tastes again. Star Wars? Pro Wrestling? Forget it. He gave me a gift of contemporary poetry history. I'm curious again. I owe him.
So, go see his play.
http://bricktheater.com/exposition
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