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One of my favorite for-pay jobs was working as an amanuensis for a semi-retired poet, Norman Nathan. I was sort of a combination of administrative assistant (filing, typing, etc.) and assistive device (reading the poems out loud to him, which is really the best way anyhow) and poetic critic (providing literary criticism, which we both knew he could ignore at will if he disagreed). I went once a week for about six months, before Dr. Nathan's health started affecting his memory and my unidentified Lyme/POTS started affecting my ability to travel to work.
Some of his poetry was more, er, traditional than I liked. Some of it was less so. Some of it, though, was simply breathtaking.
This is the favorite poem he wrote while we were working together. He has others, published and unpublished, that are just as good scattered throughout a variety of literary journals, and one published book of poetry. He also has written some short stories, which are good as long as you realize that he wrote them before he stopped being able to see a computer screen or typewriter, so gender roles and other variables may be a bit dated.
And now, the poem.
Like Virtue
Like Virtue, the poem is
its own reward;
even if no one applauds it,
sees it, hears it, enjoys it,
the words nurture the growth
of the creator;
Shakespeare surely
wrote lines and threw them
into the grave of a friend,
as was the custom,
with a feeling too piercing
to be less than private,
while not buried in his mind
or lost to his characters.
-Norman Nathan
published in 2012 Tribeca Poetry Review
rest in peace, friend ♥
Some of his poetry was more, er, traditional than I liked. Some of it was less so. Some of it, though, was simply breathtaking.
This is the favorite poem he wrote while we were working together. He has others, published and unpublished, that are just as good scattered throughout a variety of literary journals, and one published book of poetry. He also has written some short stories, which are good as long as you realize that he wrote them before he stopped being able to see a computer screen or typewriter, so gender roles and other variables may be a bit dated.
And now, the poem.
Like Virtue, the poem is
its own reward;
even if no one applauds it,
sees it, hears it, enjoys it,
the words nurture the growth
of the creator;
Shakespeare surely
wrote lines and threw them
into the grave of a friend,
as was the custom,
with a feeling too piercing
to be less than private,
while not buried in his mind
or lost to his characters.
-Norman Nathan
published in 2012 Tribeca Poetry Review
rest in peace, friend ♥
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