Dear friends,
I’m stretched over deadlines this week, so this Substack is a very short one. I’m still reading my way through your extraordinary responses from the prompt last Sunday, and I look forward to reading them all in full.
This week, Marie Howe’s New and Selected Poems was released by W.W. Norton. It is a moving book, covering the years of her work, with poems about land, living, death, womanhood, religion, sex, mythology, age, people, memory. Time after time, her poems unfold in extraordinary sentences. Take, for instance, this sentence that finishes the poem titled “The Meadow:”
… Bedeviled, human, your plight, in waking, is to choose from the words that even now sleep on your tongue, and to know that tangled among them and terribly new is the sentence that could change your life.
Just look at that: “tangled / among them and terribly new,” the subtle alliteration of the t in tangled and terribly, the muted t in them and the surrounded t in sentence. It is the capacity to embed everyday language with music that is so rich in Marie’s work.
I am biased. Yes. She is a beloved friend. But just because I’m biased doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Her work is a treasure. I was introduced to her by her luminous conversation with Krista all those years ago. This is the second week I’ve linked to that, yes. But it bears repeating. (More bias. More confidence that this — among my many loving biases — is worth your time.)
Part of the reason for my short Substack this week is that I am editing the next Poetry Unbound book (it’ll be out in early 2025). Editing is one of the tasks I love, but also causes something like physical pain. I want every sentence in an essay to be a sentence that carries beauty. Simple beauty. So I look at every essay through the lens of its constituent sentences. (Thank all the Gods for patient editors.) The draft is due next week, so I’ll be back.
But that leads me to ask you: What is a sentence that is memorable to you? It might be a sentence from a book — the beginning or the concluding. It might be something someone said to you, or something you overheard yourself say.
As I think of it, it is that line from Marie’s poem above. But also something a my friend’s son once asked me. I was on my way to a therapist’s appointment, and my friend’s five-year-old, Josiah, accosted me. “Uncle, where are you going?” he demanded. He spoke in terse sentences, with a half-Zambian, half-Australian accent. “I’m going to the doctor,” I said to him, choosing something vaguely true, vaguely not.
“Uncle. Where is your pain?” he asked me. That sentence. Four words. “Where is your pain?” I have thought about it over and over in the 25 years since he asked me. In conflict mediation, in group work with survivors of brutalisation and occupation, Josiah’s simple question, alert to the intelligence of pain in the body as well as the inherent capacity for knowledge, has shaped my imagination about human encounter.
There you go. One short sentence. I will look forward to yours.
PS: Speaking of sentences, the magnificent peace worker John Paul Lederach is a former guest of Krista’s and a world-renowned wise voice on mediation, dialogue, and conflict transformation. I interviewed him for The Corrymeela Podcast (which you can find on Apple Podcasts or Spotify), and it’s out this week.
Poetry in the World
April 15 at 6pm, Cleveland, Ohio, US
I’m giving a poetry reading in the Donahue Auditorium at John Carroll University. No registration needed; just show up.
April 19–21, Round Top, Texas, US
I’m delighted to be one of the featured poets at the Round Top Poetry festival. Information and tickets here.
April 25 at 6-7:30pm, NYC, New York, US
I’ll be exploring conflict and change through poetry at an in-person event in partnership with the International Center for Cooperation and Conflict Resolution at Columbia University. You can register for free here. It is currently sold out, but we are working to find a new venue that can take more participants.
April 27, Little Rock, Arkansas, USA
I’ll be offering both an afternoon workshop and an evening talk at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church. Details aren’t available yet, but I’ll post them here when they are.
May 14, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, US
For you theologically interested folks, I’ll be speaking at the Festival of Homiletics. Info here.
May 17 at 2–4pm, Camden, Maine, US
I’ll be talking about the word “you” in poetry at the Camden Public Library. You can attend in person or over Zoom. The entire two-day festival is free; information here.
May 24–26, Boone, North Carolina, US
I’m leading a a 48-hour Poetry Unbound retreat, where there will be poetry readings, responding to prompts, and sharing. Information and registration here.
June 27–July 7, Patmos, Greece
I’m one of the speakers at the 10-night “Journeying into Common Good” salon, together with Krista Tippett, Allison Russell, JT Nero, and Joe Henry. More details here.
Aug 7th at 6-7:30pm ET, online
I’ll be exploring conflict and change through poetry at an online event in partnership with the International Center for Cooperation and Conflict Resolution at Columbia University. You can register for free here.
August 23–25, Northamptonshire, England
I’ll be at the Greenbelt Festival, and, among other events, I will be interviewing the brilliant Jenny Mitchell whose poem “A Man in Love with Plants” we featured on a Season 7 episode of Poetry Unbound. You can go here to learnabout the festival.
October 6–11, Rhinebeck, New York, US
I’m back for a week at Omega (just two hours north of NYC) for a week of reflection on poetry, poetry prompts, and group discussions. Expect lovely people, gorgeous surroundings and food, and conversations about how poetry opens your world. Learn more here.
My 7-yr. old Grandson Logan was diagnosed with Ewing Sarcoma and he was swiftly moved into a whole regime of chemotherapy that required many hospitalizations. At the time of his diagnosis the family had just moved into a brand new home that they had built and he was so excited for his new bedroom. He had only slept in it a few times before being diagnosed; his diagnosis hung over the entire family like a black cloud and quickly ushered out any joy they felt about being able to move into their new dwelling. I visited many times in support of Logan and his family. It was on one such occasion that I was tucking him in at night that the topic of "heaven" came up. All that he had been through, his 7yr. old thoughts about cancer and dying were all summed up in one small sentence. He said to me "home is like heaven". Though there is no cure in sight for Logan, it will be two years soon since he got sick and I am so very grateful for the time he has had to spend with family and just be at home; home is his heaven. By the grace of God may he be granted more of what he cherishes so.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” -Mary Oliver