The meaning of life: I don’t know and I don’t care. Bells don’t ask questions…When you’re old you have fewer questions about the nitty-gritty of poems. There are bigger fish to fry. Dying fish. -Mary Ruefle in “Hell’s Bells,” a talk on tone
You cannot trust the sea. -Ishion Hutchinson, plenary reading
On the days after the election, I had nothing to say, nothing to write. -Virgil Suárez, plenary reading
Was was what we were. -Diane Seuss, panel on persona poetry
African-American writers and other writers of the African diaspora–we don’t feel the sovereignty to write in the personal I, much of the time. –Vievee Francis, panel on persona poetry
As soon as I put the I on the page I am abstracting myself. I can never be on the page…even the notion we can pin down a dialect seems kind of offensive to me. -Gregory Pardlo, panel on persona poetry
Forgive me, but you have such amazingly thick hair! Sorry, that was inappropriate. -very nice editor (with thinning hair) to me, in the bookfair, when I bent down to pull out a business card
Above are some high points from a conference filled with literary geniuses. I can also give you the most awesome Q&A reply ever, useful for all kinds of occasions, courtesy of Mary Ruefle: “That is such a beautiful question I won’t spoil it with an answer.” You’re welcome.
There were low points, too, involving aching feet and feeling cosmically inconsequential, despite my super-elite board-member chartreuse lanyard (preserved in the picture below, since next year I’ll wear civilian colors again). I always find AWP exhausting but paradoxically nourishing, too, both because of literary riches and the presence of friends I rarely see. I was moved especially this year by how many women, old friends and strangers, touched my arm and said kind words, in low voices, about my Claudia Emerson essay, “Women Stay Put.” Sometimes you ring a bell and the sound seems to vanish; other times it resonates back to you. I’m so grateful when the tone returns.
I’ll be working to keep the good vibrations going as I fly back to Virginia today. To echo Diane Seuss and Ann E. Michael: is is what I’ll endeavor to be.
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I imbibe words and consume past minds. As a result, I often awake next to strange sentences and forgotten meanings.
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Into one's life a little poetry must fall
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