The 2006 and 11th Biennial
Waterloo Village, Stanhope, New Jersey.
September 28 – October 1, 2006
Part One
Poetry In The Woods
Tucked deep in the woods in western New Jersey, poets and poet-wannabes
gathered along the remnants of the old Morris Canal under a gunmetal -gray
sky you could hear the distant chant of the highway as the trucks in the
distance went about their daily business.
Thousands of high school students ditched the confines of their four-wall
classrooms and landed in
Waterloo Village for the
11th
Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival.
The sprawling grounds of the former lock and plane of the long-extinct
Morris Canal is an exciting rural and remote scene to get-away
from the brick city.
In between the breaks in the clouds when the sun shone down on the
eclectically-dressed youths you could count nearly as many students inside
the tent venues as wandering the backwoods of nature around the nearly 400
acre complex of old buildings and vanishing history of the worn and weary
locks.
Other people, young and old, poets, teachers and friends of the same, were
seen wandering the wood trails with a map that tells them superficially
where they are and how to get where they think they want to go.
In the first tent I visited a poet named Daisy is using the F word, I don't
sit down. I continue around the old blacksmith shop up the hill to where the
women queue at an extra wide, wheelchair-accessible portable potty.
I find Tony Hoagland in the main tent in the middle or so of his
presentation to a packed house. He reads a poem, repeats the poem, and
dissects the humor.
In the food court by 11:30 the teens are lined up like they are buying Super
Bowl tickets for $1 instead of fries, greasy foods, pretzels, pizza,
pierogie and pull-pork sandwiches. The hamburger-hot dog line is remarkably
short and $7 gets me two dogs and a Coke. Everywhere you see a portable
potty you see a line of mostly girls waiting to use them.
TUCKER IN THE OLD CHURCH
In the old church a few hours later, newspaper editor and early morning poet
David Tucker reads some of his own poetry and some of his favorite poetry
written by others. It's an unseasonably warm day in late September and the
old church has no air conditioning, nor are the windows open.
Sweat pours down his temple as he reads. We sit in closed-in pews built
about 200 years ago - and for people with much shorter legs whose knees
likely didn't bump the pew in front.
The NJN TV crew set up the camera, lights and sound equipment - but this
reading in the old church won't be on the public TV station until sometime
next year.
Tucker reads despite the bright lights shining in his face and adding to the
heat. He continues reading and talking as students straggle in, find a seat,
settle in. He reads more, and talks more as the students straggle back out
into the beautiful sun and plop down on the grassy hills alongside the river
runs.
He handles the verse before him like a seasoned professor - quoting from
memory appropriate bytes as fitting, if not from poems we know then from
poetry we should know.
Rising at 5 each morning, Tucker works on one of the 150 or so poems he
keeps open on his computer. He reads DAISY THE CAT from his LATE FOR WORK
collection. Daisy sleeps the morning away as Tucker works on his poetry
before heading to his day job at 10.
It doesn't hurt Tucker to have (incoming poet laureate) Donald Hall as
one of his first mentors. But you don't have to read his dedication to know
Tucker is serious about his poetry. You can see it in each of his poems.
You might wonder how long would it take to write a poem about your hometown?
It took him 20 years to finish COLUMBUS DISCOVERS LINDEN, TENNESSEE. It took
him that long to get the "texture of the town" and he's "still tinkering"
with it after it's been published.
POETRY IS OKAY
The best thing about the day is the notion that it's okay to write poetry.
You don't have to downplay it as "verse" when the words are really poetry.
BORDERS
In a huge tent - nearly as big as the main tent at the festival
- The Borders books and music people had the largest collection of poetry
books for sale that I've ever seen.
Really, the poetry books went row after row in a near maze of alphabetical
by author order. Along one side of the huge then were ten or more cash
registers!
And out on the floor were helpful, really! helpful, sales people who could
help you find a book - or go find the book while you stayed put and browsed.
My dilemma - would you find the Paterson Literary Review under P or W for
William Paterson? Answer - it was under collections! And I'd have never
found it without the help of an astute Borders helper!
(BTW - It's
PASSAIC COUNTY COMMUNITY COLLEGE!)
Kudos to the book store chain. They were giving 15% of the sales to the
foundation!
It's tough to compete with teenagers let loose in the woods with the
opposite sex and exploding hormones, but Thursday's poets certainly gave it
their best shot.
Friday will tell if the teachers (only day) are more inclined to stay closer
to the event tents and off the wooded paths.
The Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival 2006
LATE FOR WORK - David Tucker
SWEET RUIN - Tony Hoagland
Periodicals To Watch For:
JOURNAL OF NEW JERSEY POETS - Issue 43
PATERSON LITERARY REVIEW - 34
EXIT 13 Magazine - "The Crossroads of Poetry since 1988"
EDISON LITERARY REVIEW - ISSUE 4, FALL 2005
The Poets of New Jersey
- From Colonial to Contemporary
Yountakah Country
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
ORIGINAL CONTEXT
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