One of the things we share is a love of words. My brother has taken to sending me cellphone pics of words he finds around New York City.
He recently found these words on the sidewalk of a street that leads up to the Main Library (lion entrance):
And this week, he shared this poem that he found on the subway--a poem about how a shift in tracks can be jarring, but how the lights DO come back on again after the shift (hallelujah):
He sent along these links: an easier to read view of the poem, and the poet Charles Reznikoff's bio on the Poetry Foundation website. Reznikoff had a fascinating (and hard) life, and was never much acclaimed as a poet while living. I'm pleased to be able to help his work live on. A quote at the end of his bio says it best:
"On the death of Yeats in 1939, Auden wrote that, when he dies, the poet becomes his admirers. That is what has now happened to Reznikoff. He is no longer driven by the compulsion to create. It is not up to him now; it is up to those who are left behind and who think that they may have deciphered something of the meaning which he strove faithfully to create."
Today's Poetry Friday round up is hosted by Jama at Jama's Alphabet Soup.