Posts Tagged ‘ Jack Gilbert ’

Mythology of Blue : The Lord gives everything and charges by taking it…

A Longhouse Birdhouse: JACK GILBERT ~

Source: A Longhouse Birdhouse: JACK GILBERT ~


Sometimes certain rare individuals come into our lives when we are ready to receive them. Thanks be I was ready to be with Jack Gilbert, beginning in 1994, when mutual friends brought him to Hartford, and off and on for ensuing years, for poetry workshops and readings, mentoring, visits, walks. He and his three mutual friends, gave me so much that became a part of me, my voice and pace. – Donna Fleischer at word pond

Jack Gilbert’s Lannan Foundation reading (1995) | Silliman’s Blog

Jack Gilbert, a Poet Off the Literary Grid, Dies at 87 –

Jack Gilbert     (Robert Toby photo)

Jack Gilbert, a Poet Off the Literary Grid, Dies at 87 / NY Times

Jack Gilbert Reads Poems: ‘A Lyrical Ghost’

Issa’s Untidy Hut: Jack Gilbert: R.I.P.

Issa’s Untidy Hut: Jack Gilbert: R.I.P..

They Will Put My Body Into the Ground, by Jack Gilbert (1925 – 2012)

They Will Put My Body Into the Ground

They will put my body into the ground.
Chemistry will have its way for a time,
and then large beetles will come.
After that, the small beetles. Then
the disassembling. After that, the Puccini
will dwindle the way light goes
from the sea. Even Pittsburgh will
vanish, leaving a greed tough as winter.

Jack Gilbert (1925-2012)
Jack Gilbert (1925-2012) passed away this morning in Berkeley, CA

Poet Jack Gilbert’s days of triumph and loss /

Poet Jack Gilbert in 2006. (Robert Tobey / November 6, 2008)

Poet Jack Gilbert’s days of triumph and loss –

“The Poem is What I Am”: Conversing with Jack Gilbert, by Gary Metras & Jack Gilbert / Cerise Press

Jack Gilbert

Jack Gilbert

~ thanks to poet Sarah Sarai

The Abnormal Is Not Courage / Jack Gilbert

The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German 
Tanks on horses.  Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers, 
A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace. 
And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question 
The bravery. Say it's not courage. Call it a passion. 
Would say courage isn't that. Not at its best. 
It was impossib1e, and with form. They rode in sunlight, 
Were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal. 
Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches. 
The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment. 
It is too near the whore's heart: the bounty of impulse, 
And the failure to sustain even small kindness. 
Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being. 
Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality. 
Accomplishment.  The even loyalty.  But fresh. 
Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope. 
The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo. 
The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding. 
Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage, 
Not the month's rapture.  Not the exception.  The beauty 
That is of many days. Steady and clear. 
It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment.