Cynosure, gravid, pabulum–
just three of the many
I’d been lucky enough to glimpse
in the last few days.
The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach. I have heard them all, and of the three elemental voices, that of ocean is the most awesome, beautiful and varied.
Sometimes it’s painful to watch a group of poets trying to work a room as if they were politicians. The AWP conference, as the wag put it, is comprised of 15,000 introverts pretending to be extroverts.
I could not be a poet without the natural world. Someone else could. But not me. For me the door to the woods is the door to the temple.