When I moved to Washington from the
west coast in 1966, the only venue for poetry was the Library of
Congress. That is where the readings were in a shiny palace that
Robert Pinsky calls “The House of Memory.” Of course now there
are more poetry readings a night in DC and its area than 12 people
could go to in separate directions. However ever since the 6o’s I
am still a big pillar hugger. I love walking in the marble. Gold dome
and fresca ceilings notwithstanding, the place is alive with music.
The voices of thousands of poets are archived. Today, the Library
celebrates its 15th year of POETRY AT NOON.
I wanted to mention PAN for BAP as it’s
an ad hoc event, like the extra cherry on top a hot fudge sundae,
concocted by Pat Gray. The regular evening reading series is from
October to May, depending on the arrival and departure schedule of
the US Poet Laureate. This year, California’s Kay Ryan served as
Laureate. Of a long stream of great poets since 1937, Kay resides as
the 10th woman to be chosen. Early on the Laureates were
called Poetry Consultants, and in 1986 Congress designated the change
in term to “Poet Laureate.” The women Laureates fascinate me. In
the first half of the 20th century, it was not seemly for
a woman to be ambitious and so I was interested in looking into those
females to find what they were like. Let me list them by terms and
see whose poetry we remember : Louise Bogan 1945,Leonie Adams
1948,Elizabeth Bishop 1949, Josephine Jacobsen 1971.Maxine Kumin
1981, Gwendolyn Brooks 1985. Mona Van Duyn 1992, Rita Dove 1993,
Louise Gluck 2003,Kay Ryan 2008. I am devoted to the poetry of those
most recent three. I think I am also passionate about Louise Bogan
and intrigued by her life. A journalist as well as a poet , 38 years
with the New Yorker; made her own way after unsuccessful
marriages. She was a cultural historian, translator, reviewer as
well as poet. Her most successful relationship was with her own
psyche and her own esthetic standards. As time passes her presence
becomes more powerful somehow. Clear, analytical, unflinching, she
said she spent her whole life with two friends: Sorrow and Love. They
were inseparable. This poem is from her first book Body of Death
(1923.)
The Frightened Man
In fear of the rich mouth
I kissed the thin –Even that was a
trap
To snare me in.
Even she, so long
The frail, the scentless
Is become strong,
And proves relentless.
O forget her praise,
And how I sought her
Through a hazardous maze
By shafted water.
When we look at the magnificent
structures of The Library of Congress, that preserve the greatest
treasures in the world, I like to think of all that pain and sorrow
and love that still roam the halls, where somehow everything is still
alive.
Here are some photos of the Library of
Congress and Supreme Court by Dan Murano: