Seamus Heaney

Maybe it's because I was putting in my last few hours as a temp in the Binghamton University paint and masonry department (dorm halls, not fine art) and hanging out with Janell that I didn't hear that Seamus Heaney died on August 30th, 2013. I'm just finding out today after reading it HERE.

Directly after having a cavity filled in October of 2002, I drove to Cambridge, Mass to hear the poet read in a cozy lecture hall, next to a kind woman, at Harvard. "He was the author of over 20 volumes of poetry and criticism, and edited several widely used anthologies. He won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1995 'for works of lyrical beauty and ethical depth, which exalt everyday miracles and the living past.' Heaney taught at Harvard University (1985-2006) and served as the Oxford Professor of Poetry (1989-1994)."

His poems should be heard. They are dense with sound, imagery and inflection. They are earthy and Irish. When he read, each sound filled his mouth fully - long enough to make the impression last. I didn't know what to make of him as a man. I didn't linger to fawn or get an autograph. He reminded me of Robert Bly whom I had met a few times and didn't care for - though what I read as haughtiness may just have been shyness. But his poetry kept me spellbound.

To this day I'm only really familiar with his verse translation of Beowulf, but when a few dollars roll in I will buy a used copy of a slim volume to patch the cracks of my days.

Image and quotation from The Poetry Foundation