Literary Mileage
I Thought My Head Might Explode…

That was one of my central thoughts as an attendee at the Key West Literary Seminar earlier this month. I am a fool for poetry, so this year’s celebration of 60 years of American poetry was an embarrassment of riches for me. More than 22 poets took the stage at one time or another over three days. I knew the work of 11 of them; the remaining ones were new acquaintances for me.

This was my third year to attend this literary feast at the southernmost point of the continental U.S. Normally, the weather alone would be attraction enough. (2010 was an exception to the rule, with record low temperatures in a place where most places do not have heat.) A different seminar theme is selected annually. Last year’s was historical fiction. Next year’s is “The Hungry Muse: An Exploration of Food in Literature.” It will NOT be about the Food Network or cookbooks. The brainy people who run the seminar will develop a full agenda of ‘takes’ on food in writing. It will be intellectual and literary. Learn more about it at www.kwls.org.

Miles Frieden, Executive Director of the Key West Literary Seminar

But, back to poetry and head explosions. I have a crush on Maxine Kumin and her poetry — seventeen poetry volumes published to date. Her verse is down-to-earth, much of it drawn from her 60-year marriage to Victor, the back-breaking work of life on their New Hampshire farm, its horses, and their rescue dogs. She’s been a poet so long, even her regular speech is musical, not to mention wry. In her 80s, stooped now from age and a near fatal accident in 1998, Maxine’s voice remains strong and able to reflect outrage about injustice, war, and loss. She was a good friend of Anne Sexton and still finds herself processing Sexton’s suicide through her own poetry. In a reading for the Friends of the Key West Library, for her last poem she chose “Morning Swim.” She knows it so well, she closed her eyes and said it from memory. The final verse brought most of us to tears with its beauty and quiet plea:

My bones drank water; water fell


through all my doors. I was the well

that fed the lake that met my sea


in which I sang “Abide With Me.”

You can read the entire poem here:

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2003/06/06

Too soon, Maxine Kumin and other gifted poetic voices I heard in Key West will be our ancestors. I want to honor them now while we have them, and be prepared to consult them frequently later. Read more about Maxine Kumin at www.maxinekumin.com and http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poet.html?id=3866.