Hug an Oregon Poet During National Poetry Month

Maybe your idea of Oregon is Douglas west of the mountains and Ponderosa pine to the east? Or if you are from the other forty-nine states, chances are you've never heard of poets who happen to have spent prime time in Oregon?

National Poetry Month is a good time to consider that if you don't know their poems it may be (1) because there are so many good American poets these days and (2) because they live a long way from New York City. Still, a poet like Billy Collins, formerly the Poetry Consultant at the Library of Congress saw fit to include some of them on his Poetry 180 website.

Here's a sampling of poems by Oregon poets. You will be able to find the complete poems on the internet by searching titles:

But first a quick survey: a poet writing about grief, a poet just having fun, two poets writing from their roots, and a late, beloved poet--a master of his craft, all part of the Oregon poetry landscape.

You'll find these five poets listed if you click Oregon on the map currently at the prestigious poetry.org national poetry website: The poems are my own personal selection.

Dorianne Laux:
with a striking image of grief

. . . A woman holds the glass door open,
waiting patiently for my empty body to pass through . . .

From "For the Sake of Strangers"

In contrast, here's Oregon's Poet Laureate,

Lawson Inada:

having fun with language in "Flying by the Seat":

Which, when you think about it,
ain't all that bad.
I mean, hey, it could be
"Seating by the fly of our pants"! . . .

Here is Primus St. John
with a compact image statement weightier than a thousand words:

. . . Ethnically,
dark wood
Is my life. . . .

From The Carpenter

and Garrett Hongo

with an ars poetica(poem that addresses the nature of poetry):

. . .I wanted to become a doctor of pure magic,
to string a necklace of sweet words . . .

From "What For"

Last but not least, William Stafford,
with his own ars poetica::

. . I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. . .

From "When I Met My Muse"

Classifying poets geographically is arbitrary; you can't know what a poet will write or how by where the poet lives. You can't even judge a poet by whether she or he appears on a poetry map or list. When I think Oregon, I'm as likely to come up with names like Sandra Stone, Willa Schneberg or Floyed Skloot.

And yet, National Poetry Month reminds us to inhale the fragrance of the varied blooms in our mixed bouquet of American poems, and if we're so minded, to inhale other poems whose scent crosses our borders.

www.loc.gov (poetry 180 website)
www.poets.org
www.poemhunter.com
www.english.illinois.edu