QUOTATIONS
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Poet Amy Lowell (1874–1925) was born in Brookline, Massachusetts. She is one of the poets most associated with the Imagist movement, along with H.D., Richard Aldington, and Ezra Pound. Imagism was a reactionary movement in early 20th-century Anglo-American poetry that favored precision, economy of language, and the use of sharp, concrete images. It stood in… Read more
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Though Marianne Moore (1887–1972) was born in Missouri, she became the quintessential New York City Modernist poet. The city and its “inhabitants” live in her poems, whether they be her beloved Bronx Bombers or a specific tree in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park. Over Christmas, Sue and I returned to NYC with my Minnesota daughter and son-in-law… Read more
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In poetry, you must love the words, the ideas and the images and rhythms with all your capacity to love anything at all. -Wallace Stevens Read more
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The best way to learn about poetry is to read poetry, and to read poets talking about it. With that in mind, over the next month I will be highlighting a number of books that feature poets talking about poetry, beginning with the book Poetry and Ambition: Essays 1982–88 by Donald Hall. The greatest challenge in reviewing… Read more
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The month of January here at ClimbingSky this year is dedicated to Poetry. It is something I read every day, wrestle with most days, and has been a constant in my life since my teen years. For those counting, that is five decades now and counting. I am not sure how many books of poetry,… Read more
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The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. -Dylan Thomas Read more
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“You gotta be original, man!” ~Lester Young Read more
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“I have desired, like every artist, to create a little world out of the beautiful, pleasant, and significant things of this marred and clumsy world….” ~ W. B. Yeats Read more
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Throwback Thursdays” at ClimbingSky feature posts I wrote over a 15 year period for various blogs. This was first posted on December 02, 2012. The second day of December brings a foggy morning to the North Country. Out my back window only the black silhouettes of a few winter-bare trees and the nearest houses are visible. The rest… Read more
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If I were to paint the short days of winter, I should represent two towering icebergs, approaching each other like promontories, for morning and evening, with cavernous recesses, and a solitary traveller, wrapping his cloak about him and bent forward against a driving storm, just entering the narrow pass. I would paint the light of… Read more
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