The University of Memphis has a wonderful writers series that simply isn’t advertised enough.
Richard Tillinghast, a poet, will be the first to open the series Tuesday, September 27th at 8pm at the University Center, Room 350.
I and two other poets have been reading his work, samplings from his 8 published poetry books, as well as some from his 3 nonfiction books, and just tackling his amazing biography, in order to prepare for interviewing him.
A native Memphian, Richard Tillinghast last resided in Ireland, where he was awarded several grants just for his contribution to the Irish poetry/writing scene (He also wrote his latest nonfiction book, Finding Ireland, about his exploration of Irish poetry and writing). Before that, he had received grants to study conversational Turkey in Istanbul. While there and some after, he translated the Turkish poet, Edip Cansever, into English with his daughter while staying there. He wrote a beautiful essay about staying in Turkey here.
He studied under Robert Lowell at Harvard, has taught at Harvard, Sewanee, Michigan, and Iowa, and received endowments from really too many places to name. He even once recorded his poetry while the band Poignant Pleclostomus jammed in the background.
For any poet or writer interested in seeing how one gets so many amazing opportunities to get paid to write, he is the one to ask.
I’m a fiction writer. Why would I care about seeing a poet?
–Great question. Poetry is about crystallizing images, about treating language in a fresh way. Tillinghast is brilliant at this. There are so many lines from his work that I want to steal, and I think fiction writers would entirely benefit from reading poetry and trying to write a poetry (even badly). Anyone’s fiction would benefit from a thorough study of how poetry employs imagery and language. Don’t be afraid because your teacher only made you read Old English poetry in class. Embrace completely accessible, contemporary poetry.
(published online on Agni)
A Hotel in the Rain
Today this place seems chiseled out of the weather—
if you could hammer a hard edge into airy droplets
or drive a steel blade into the staticky
encroachment of the rain and hew out
these however-many square feet
of contentment and efficiency,
with two-foot-thick stone walls and infallible slates.
This hotel, this haven, your bower or burrow,
Badger’s hole from The Wind in the Willows,
where you waken layer by layer
after the best night’s sleep you ever got
like a storybook creature saved from misadventure—
half hearing finger-taps, then lashings
of rain against your windows.
Breakfast under a skylight alive with rain.
Then go out and trawl the second-hand bookstores.
Inhabit the pub till the talk gets dull
and your bad knee insists upon return
to your room up the stairs
where everything has been tucked and turned,
and a sliver of sunlight laid on your windowsill.
Just look at those words! chiseled, sliver, hew, infallible slates. So melodic! So perfectly lovely! Think of these in your fiction! Think of these in your poetry!
Come to hear more.
Tuesday, September 27th, 8pm, University of Memphis, University Center, Room 350
COME ONE, COME ALL!