come on, tell me you don't want to get some burgers on that grill and hang with my tikki torches. (hi dad!)
it wasn't until i moved to new jersey that i started writing poetry. i'm not sure why, but new jersey definitely unlocked something in me that led to poetry. a lot of poets are from new jersey. it's one of the most poetic states around. allow me to explain.
walt whitan! uncle walt! you can go visit his grave in camden, if you're into that kind of thing (i'm not.)
william carlos williams from rutherford
allen ginsberg fucked a latin teacher from my high school. no really.
amiri baraka born and raised in newark. nj poet laureate until there was some, uh, unpleasantness.
w.s. merwin raised in union city, nj. graduated from princeton.
robert pinksy born in long branch, undergrad at rutgers newark
joyce carol oates wrote about the smell of nj. nice.
there's a lot more i'm just going to leave out, but look into jersey poets. for those of you interested, i highly recommend this anthology: poets of new jersey.
my copy is in the mail!
please enjoy some words on nj:
"new jersey's gift to its poets... is that it's a place of many places, essentially amorphous, freeing us to look at the world." - stephen dunn
by joyce carol oates
South into Jersey on I-95 rain and
windshield wipers and someone you love asleep
in the seat beside you, light on all sides
like teeth winking and that smell like baking
bread gone wrong and you want
to die it's so beautiful-
you love the enormous trucks floating in spray
and the tall smokestacks rimmed with flame
and this hammering in your head
this magnet drawing what's deepest
in you you can't name
exactly to know it's there.