"Am I a poetry jukebox?"

So that would be a direct quote from Billy Collins during the course of his readings and commentary last night. There was an entirely too crazy lady who would whoop and holler and stand up after several of his poems. Early on she had yelled out a request to which he responded with the juke box answer. Genius. He was absolutely delightful, entertaining, and seriously humorous (what and oxymoron--but true)—AND didn't let the crazy lady phase him. One of the best hours of poetry I have ever been a part of. It made my heart happy. :)

He is a man of spare and direct styling who writes very much about the common world and the common experience. He had a humorous poem about the silly little game we play with kids "This Little Piggy Went to Market" if that helps you see what I mean by him seeking to find beauty and humor in the common.

But the adventures with Billy began before the reading. He happened to sit at my table during dinner at the cafeteria. I didn't really get to have any conversations with him then, but I can always say now that I have eaten dinner with Billy Collins! he and Dar Williams would be the two most famous people I have ever had the pleasure of eating with. You probably don't know Dar, but that's for another post.

He sat very close to me as well while he was being introduced, and so I got a couple pics of that. I really can't do his humor justice, but he has this wonderfully dry style like Seinfeld. He says he loves to poke fun at poets and poetry in his works because he hates the pretentiousness that seems to accompany poetry. He truly wants it to be for everyone. Perhaps this attitude is what prompted a group to protest his appointment as Poet Laureate. They didn't think he was poetic enough or respectful enough of the craft.

But he wants all people to have entrance to the art and find ways to enjoy it. He knew that many of us here are teachers, and when he was signing books after he asked many of us about it. he asked me where I taught and then proceeded to say he had spent a semester as a Writer in Residence at ASU. He said it was awfully hot. But I digress. He took an active interest in us as teachers because he knows we are young people's avenue into poetry in many cases, and we can make or break it. He's one I think my students could read and appreciate and then reread and appreciate years later in a different way.

To give you a flavoring of the humor and the seriousness all in one, here is the final poem he read. We laughed and then we all sat in silence as the poem turned in the final stanza. He was mocking the idea of how we make such a big deal of bithdays ending in 0, but you'll see where he goes...

On Turning 10
by Billy Collins

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

After the reading, Bread Loaf hosted a reception for us with him where he signed books, and we could enjoy the sunsetting over the patio. Here's a bonus pic of me with some of my friends—all of whom were in Asheville last summer: April, Tara, me, Sarah, and Erin. What fun!