In Memoriam

How dreamlike on this quiet, cloudy Friday to realize that it was but a week ago that I was surrounded by very dear and talented friends—a warm gathering of writers—many of whom I have been in dialogue with for over twenty years. It was the midpoint of the National Poetry Foundation’s conference on Poetry and Poetics of the 1990s. It was time for our famous lobster banquet. I was giddy with the company, exhausted, happy. As the banquet wound down, but before the evening readings, I shared the Power Point presentation that I, with the help and support of Kevin Killian, had been rushing to finish before everyone showed up in Orono. Steve helped as well, playing the role of sound engineer, clipping and fading the songs I had chosen as accompaniment.

You’re not coming to Orono?

Once I had the idea to do an Oscars-style In Memoriam to honor the poets we had lost, I couldn’t let go of it. I also knew that I needed Kevin Killian to help me. But when I called him to discuss it, he said that due to another commitment, he wasn’t coming to Orono. This news made me quite hysterical. I burst into tears and exclaimed, “but I wanted to do an Oscar-style In Memoriam slideshow with you!” Luckily Dodie came home later that evening, and though I don’t know exactly what transpired, Kevin called back to say “we’re coming.” Now everything was in place to make my dream a reality. At the start of the work, I sent Kevin about nine names to honor. Can you think of others, I asked? He sent me back a list of what seemed like hundreds! Kevin had the idea to represent the interim since the last NPF conference in June of 2012. He also suggested that I sometimes show the image of a writer as older first, younger second.

We’ve lost so many over this past five years. Yet I knew, for all the care, we would overlook someone. We did. I was grateful when, after the presentation, Jonathan Skinner said, “Dennis Tedlock,” and Miriam Nichols, “Benjamin Hollander.” Hollander had even come to Orono to read his work in the early aughts. Then there was the embarrassing realization that I had made a slide for Bill Knott but forgot to include it! How was it possible to be so careless? The rush, the flurry of work. I learned from Juliette Valéry that Joseph Gugliemi had died. That I hadn’t known. There are no doubt countless others. Any such memorial is instantly dated. Jack Collom died just as our conference was coming to an end. Neither Kevin nor I meant any disrespect toward those not represented here. All the makers are missed.

This tribute was shared with over a hundred poets and scholars in Orono, Maine during the NPF’s 1990s conference lobster banquet on Friday, June 30, 2017.

Ron Silliman encouraged me to put it online. He also noted that “people laughed when they saw Rod McKuen, but he was part of the Berkeley Renaissance!” Indeed. Death can both alter and codify our impressions.

I’m happy to share this melancholy labor. My hope is that it can remind us of some of the great artists and poets who have been a part of our community, and who we dearly miss.

7 Comments

  1. Miriam Nichols

    Thank you for this, Jennifer. It was a beautiful lament for the makers. The Cocteau was perfect. Miriam

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