Review written for ClubReading.com by Bill

Subtitled, ‘A Celebration of Poets and Their Craft’, Bill Moyers’ book, ‘Fooling With Words’ is a journalist celebration of poetry and the art of verse. In an easy to read manner, the author shares glimpses of conversations with contemporary poets. Intermixed with some of the best modern-day poetry is a dialog with the creators, digging into their pasts, their motivations and the skills they use in this special media.

I started reading poetry in school, but really didn’t fall in love with the art till later. Reading is a wonderful diversion. But there is something special about poetry and its ability to reach in deep and stir the soul.

Stanley Kunitz is the first poet featured in this book. During his 96 years of life, Kunitz has gained a certain understanding of his place in the world. And this shows in his work:

The Round

Light splashed this morning
on the shell-pink anemones
swaying on their tall stems;
down blue-spiked veronica
light flowed in rivulets
over the humps of the honeybees;
this morning I saw light kiss
the silk of the roses
in their second flowering,
my late bloomers
flushed with their brandy.
A curious gladness shook me.

So I have shut the doors of my house,
so I have trudged downstairs to my cell,
so I am sitting in semi-dark
hunched over my desk
with nothing for a view
to tempt me
but a bloated compost heap,
steamy old stinkpile,
under my window;
and I pick my notebook up
and I start to read aloud
the still-wet words I scribbled
on the blotted page:
“Light splashed…”

I can scarcely wait till tomorrow
when a new life begins for me,
as it does each day,
as it does each day.

My favorite poem in the book is ‘New Dog’ by Mark Doty. It’s a wonderful life affirming story. Writing about his partner, Wally Roberts, who died of complications of AIDS in 1994, Mark shares with us how these experiences changed his outlook. Mark writes:

What I’m writing about in this poem is a gesture made by a man in the vary late moments of his life; a man who had lost the use of much of his body, who knew very well that the end was near, and who could still reach out to a new dog he could love, something he found beautiful, just to give that touch that says, “I find this world worth participating in, even though I can’t stay in it.”

Another terrific interview is with Jane Hirshfield:

Many years passed between my seeing the little mules of Santorini and writing the poem. I wrote it to help me get through a time in my life when I thought a certain stubbornness would help. I told myself, “Just last out the moment, and rely on the truth that everything changes; if you can simply hang in there, you’ll be all right.” And from that feeling, the poem came.

Mule Heart

On the days when the rest
have failed you,
let this much be yours–
flies, dust, an unnameable odor,
the two waiting baskets:
one for the lemons and passion,
the other fro all you have lost.
Both empty,
it will come to your shoulder,
breathe slowly against your bare arm.
If you offer it hay, it will eat.
Offered nothing,
it will stand as long as you ask.
The little bells of the bridle will hang
beside you quietly,
in the heat and the tree’s thin shade.
Do not let its sparse mane deceive you,
or the way the left ear swivels into dream.
This too is a gift of the gods,
calm and complete.

Whether you are new to poetry or experienced in the classics, you will find something in this book for you. I highly recommend it.