Charming Billy

Billy Collins at Point Loma Nazarene University, San Diego.

Anyone who knows me, or has heard me read any of my poetry, knows that my favorite poet is Billy Collins. I love T.S.Eliot for his complexity, am a big fan of John Ciardi, who is very clever, and have countless other poets with claims on my affections--but Billy Collins is the poet I wish I were. He is accessible. His constructions are simple, and yet...there's always something beneath the words, tangled up inside, that brings me back to read his poems just one more time, and almost always, I find something new.

Last week I had the opportunity to hear the man in person (which is far more fun than watching the YouTube versions of his readings.) I saw the listing in a newspaper or magazine in San Diego and promptly went online and grabbed two tickets. Lucky me.

The program consisted of a reading, followed by an interview. We got there early--I mean 45 minutes before it began--and scored 6th row center seats. The auditorium was packed well before 7. In fact, had we come minutes after we did, we might have been in the balcony.

But that is all unimportant. Watching and listening was what I was there for. I found myself wishing for a transcript of all that was going on: perhaps a video, or even just a podcast. Maybe the University will do that. I hope. This reading, this interview were full of insights into the writing of poetry, and particularly, Billy Collins' writing of HIS poetry. I found myself on the edge of my chair, thinking, "YES!!" over and over again.

For example--why do people feel compelled to say, "I bet you'll be writing about that!" or, worse yet, "Here's something you should write about..."? Why do folks assume that every poem is autobiographical? (re: a poem he wrote about summer camp in the Adirondacks, someone asked him which camp it was--no doubt hoping to establish some identity with the poet. He said,"I went to camp in the Catskills, but that didn't sound as good as the word 'Adirondacks'.." For sure.

Asked about a poem that obliquely referenced Robert Frost, he opined that certain poets have established domain over certain areas: Frost owns the woods, for example, and you can't write about the woods without thinking of the Frost poem. He OWNS that territory, as Wordsworth owns daffodils. It is as if (he continued) there is sort of a crime scene tape wrapped around certain places or things. And he's right. A peach reference brings up Prufrock and Eliot, Dante summons Ezra Pound. Pick your poet and define their space. (In the Q&A, I asked--I NEVER ask questions--what his own territory was, and he thought a minute--I made Billy Collins think!--and said, 'the window'. Hmm.)

When someone asked who his favorite poet was, he changed the question. Which poet was he most envious of? Poets don't have favorites, but they DO have other poets that make them jealous. Oh, yes. His was Charles Simic. Okay. Because he just can't understand how Simic does what he does. I can understand that feeling.

And then there was the question of where do you get ideas (assuming, of course, that it's not from the yokels who tell you what you should write about)? He quoted a poet who, when asked where he got his images, said, "I don't know. If I did, I'd go there and never come back." Collins' answer, referencing Willa Cather? (and I paraphrase) "There are only five stories, and people tell them again and again." Collins agrees. "As far as poetry is concerned, there are five rooms, if you will--age is one--and it's all about how you get inside. Metaphor is one way into those rooms." Yes, and yes again and again. But what are the other 4 rooms, the other ways, the other entries???!!!??? Were I the interviewer, that would have been my first question. He didn't ask it. The dolt. An addendum: Collins said, "There are also only two science fiction stories: we go there or they come here." Probably not pleasing to those sci-fi aficionados, but true, when you think about it.

And then, (I know I keep saying that) he talked about the role of poetry. He pointed out the entire spectrum of writing, beginning with cookbooks, that don't require thought, but obedience. Just do what they say. On the far end of that spectrum is poetry, where the poet invites participation. Again, yes! Isn't that what we want out of a poem? To be challenged, and yet, to have it beautifully simple and straightforward. Simplicity with a note of the complex, words that sing, or give the illusion of song, saying something profound in a simple way: this is what poets seek. The beauty of hearing Billy Collins speak is that he understands this, from the inside out--and when he tells the story, it rings true with anyone who writes or tries to write.

More to come, as I digest it all. And you can bet I will be as close as I can be to front row, center, when he reads at the Folger this spring. I already have my ticket.