Last evening people gathered to read and listen to poems about the art of poetry. Ruth read Bly and Dickinson. Barrie read Hirshfield, Betty read MacLeish. Dave read Frost. Alice read Kenyon. Lee Ann read Collins. Fosten recited The Tempest. Robert and Will read their own poems. I began with Gregg and ended with Rukeyser. All the while we were surrounded by the sacredness of stained glass windows, wood and people who just came to listen, unexpectedly to poetry on a quiet Saturday night on The Eastern Shore of Virginia.
Ars Poetica Reading at The Cokesbury Church in Onancock
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