Stanley Kunitz: Rocked by the Infinite

I've fallen in Love! Maybe it's the cumulative effect of 'meeting' so many poets in such a concentrated space of time, like stumbling into an amazing party; many of whom I've never heard of before, or knew only slightly. I feel giddy! 

Today I've  spent time with Stanley Kunitz, on the anniversary of his death, 2006, aged 100! I had no idea what was coming when I started to look into who he was and what his poetry was like. 

First, I learned that when his father was declared bankrupt, he went to a public park and drank carbolic acid; just 6 weeks before Stanley was born. His mother removed every trace of his existence from the home, but the pain lingered. 

A beautiful poem, calm, tranquil, factual, delivering the smack of those 2 last lines. 

I learned he did well at Harvard; majoring in English, with a minor in philosophy; going on to achieve an M.A. at the same college. But, when he applied for a doctorate, he was told that no student would want to be taught by a Jew. He became a journalist instead. 

What I've appreciated, even in this hothouse form of genning up on poets, is his generosity in speaking about the craft; his aims, and tenets. Honest. Simple. Effective. 

The craft and the mystery that is the genesis of poetry.

Nowhere is that more evident than in his revealing the origin of the 'End of Summer'-

                   

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             He writes much of the rhythm of poetry - it's driving force - the engine - our breath.

               

His 1st collection: Intellectual Things, 1930 was followed by another volume: Passport to the War, around 14 years later, to not much acclaim; going out of print, and severely knocking his confidence. He managed to produce a 3rd volume: Selected Poems 1928-1958, in 1959, for which he won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry! tenacious, dogged, in spite of being dispirited. An inspiration.

     
       

             LAYERS

There's a beautiful rawness to his poetry; quietly assured; as constant as breathing; the pain and pleasure of being alive, and living each moment with acute sensitivity.

 

I feel privileged to have 'met' him, and eager to share this new-found friend and fellow poet, who overcame discouragement, and obstacles that society at that time placed in his way.