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Saturday, November 4, 2017

A poem is a two-way street


“Of course a poem is a two-way street. No poem is any good if it doesn't suggest to the reader things from his own mind and recollection that he will read into it, and will add to what the poet has suggested.” – James Laughlin

Laughlin, born in 1914, was founder of New Directions Publishing, which became a preeminent publisher of modernist literature.   

Laughlin's poetic writing (more than 1,200 poems) often focused on everyday experiences, love, and life and was highly regarded by fellow poets.  In his honor, the “James Laughlin Award” is given annually by The Academy of American Poets to recognize and support a second book of poetry forthcoming in the next calendar year.   For Saturday’s Poem, exerpted from New Direction’s wonderful book The Collected Poems of James Laughlin is,

                                           What The Pencil Writes

                                                        Often when I go out I
                                                        put in my coat pocket

                                                        some paper and a pencil
                                                        in case I want to

                                                       write something down
                                                       well there they are

                                                       wherever I go and as
                                                       my coat moves the pencil

                                                       writes by itself
                                                       a kind of gibberish

                                                       hieroglyphic which I
                                                       often think as I undress

                                                      at night & take
                                                      out those papers with

                                                      nothing written on
                                                      them but strange and

                                                      meaningless marks is
                                                      the story of my life.




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