4.8 • 1.2K Ratings
🗓️ 15 April 2024
⏱️ 7 minutes
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Today’s poem is Gacela of the Dark Death by Federico García Lorca, translated by Merryn Williams.
The Slowdown is your daily poetry ritual. In this episode, Major writes… "Today’s poem has me recall a pilgrimage to the home of a cherished poet, whose mystery is the very fire that channels my faith in poetry as nothing less than pure feeling.”
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0:00.0 | The slowdown is supported by W. W. Norton and Company, |
0:04.0 | publishers of Poetry Unbound by Padreck Ottumah, |
0:08.0 | a poetry anthology that offers immersive reflections, keen insights, and personal anecdotes on 50 powerful poems. |
0:18.0 | Focusing mainly on poets writing today, Poetry Unbound engages with a diverse array of voices that includes |
0:26.7 | Aida Lamone, Ilea Kaminsky, Margaret Atwood, Ocean Vong, Lally Long soldier, and Reginald Wayne Betts. |
0:36.1 | Poetry Unbound, now in paperback. I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown. |
0:45.0 | And this is the slowdown. The Slow down. |
1:04.8 | Over the years, I have cultivated a connection to poets. I not only read their poems and biographies, |
1:08.1 | but make pilgrimages to their homes, |
1:11.2 | delve into their archives. I feel closer to a poet when standing at |
1:16.4 | their writing desk or when in the special collections room of a library I pull |
1:21.8 | out a handwritten note from a stored box, one that expresses |
1:27.0 | exhilaration at publishing a first book, or anxiety at socializing at a literary gathering. |
1:35.0 | These moments make it easy for me to see |
1:38.0 | behind the constructed persona of the poet |
1:41.0 | and come face to face with the hidden vulnerabilities, ambitions, |
1:46.2 | and passions that make them human. So when I was invited to stay in the historic farmhouse of poet Robert Frost, I could not resist. |
1:58.3 | It was modestly furnished with squeaky floorboards. |
2:02.4 | In daylight, the surrounding property was a lush green. |
2:06.8 | Knights on the porch flashed deep with neon streaks of luna moths. |
2:18.2 | One evening, reading by a faint light, I heard flapping in an unlit corner. I looked up and saw nothing. The antique radio crackled. I stared more into the darkness. |
2:28.4 | A second later, a huge bat swooped above my head. |
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