Poetry Is Awesome

I had almost forgotten how much I love poetry and why. After applying to grad school, and getting in, but finding myself unable to currently truly afford it without putting holes in numerous pockets of numerous pants that I have yet to even own, I had almost forgotten why I was drawn to words in the first place. Especially words written in form, following ancient structures that seem to have no relevance in today's world, speaking codes. But then tonight I saw Mark Strand read in the back of a bar in Alphabet City and couldn't stop myself from grinning from ear to ear and remembering why and how it had put a spell on me all those years ago, as a teenager, as a college student, as a recent graduate--grasping and sighing dramatically over the mastery of the person's mind before me on the page, or at the podium.

And what a reader. Like slow, patient music. He let the words come soberly and strong. Punctuated and measured. The space between the words helped shape the words themselves. It was simple. It felt pure. And I dizzyingly fell in love all over again.

More than once, I thought, "I have loved your words for years now, how wonderful to hear you and see you as a human being. What courage. What hope. You were the poet laureate. But even more so, you made me see the world in a different way. You have always taken me by the hand and led me to peek over the precipice at death, at life going on without me, at myself wondering over it, and seeing it as a dream." (Ha, yes, that, exactly, more than once over the course of 30 minutes. Hyperbole, you're a good friend.)

And before Strand went on, I found a new poet's work to love: Rick Halles. He made me swoon at his imagery, lights like stars piercing hearts, leaving stains on shirts. I can't wait to read more of him for years to come.

And I left feeling (get ready for more drama): These are my people.

I must stalk the people who organized this reading. Thanks, curators of Reading Between A & B. They created a homey environment, one where I felt just fine sitting by myself for 20 minutes, smiling, listening to other people's conversations, just sitting there, feeling at home. And loving the fuck out of New York City. This is what I came for. So I finally got to the right place a few years late. I've never claimed to be prompt. I'm just glad I made it.