I'm reading Jack Gilbert now, his book "Rejecting Heaven." It is to me an enormous consolation, given my current circumstances (no need to elaborate). I'm reading Pattiann Rogers for her minute particulars. And recently Doug Anderson's poems on war, especially his recasting of Homer, has been enormously powerful for me.
I don't see contemporary poetry in decline at all. As with all other arts, perhaps ninety or ninety five percent won't survive the decade, in terms of touching, influencing, enlightening readers. But that's always been the case. For every Shakespeare sonnet there were thousands of others that molder now in libraries. The dedicated reader will perhaps stumble upon those, shrug, and move on to something truly powerful, moving, insightful.
Here's a Jack Gilbert piece that especially speaks to me now:
BY SMALL AND SMALL: MIDNIGHT TO 4 AM
For eleven years I have regretted it,
regretted that I did not do what
I wanted to do as I sat there those
forty hours watching her die. I wanted
to crawl in among the machinery
and hold her in my arms, knowing
the elementary, leftover bit of her
mind would dimly recognize it was me
carrying her to where she was going.
Thanks again for your post.
Best wishes
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