Remembering Joe Bolton

I met Joe in a poetry writing class. The year was 1982. I remember the instructor, Frank Steele, asking us all which poet we admired the most. I said Whitman. Joe said Transtromer. Most of us had never even heard of Transtromer. Frank asked him why, and he went on at length -- his knowledge of poetry was formidable. He taught me more about poetry than all of the classes I ever took. He loved the poetry of other languages: Rilke, Neruda, Gorostiza, Vallejo, and Lorca were among his favorites. He was a very fine translator, and he often worked late into the night on translations of their works. This he did in addition to his course work, simply because he loved doing it. Joe lived and breathed poetry. Almost everything that he experienced he immediately transmitted into poetry, and it often seemed that the poems came to him whole. I almost never saw him revise anything. He usually refused to revise, saying, "I prefer to write new poems."

He had this gesture -- he counted syllables all the time -- he would hold his hand out flat against his thigh and tap his fingers one at a time against his leg -- counting as he listened to the poetry in his head. He liked form. Many of his poems are written in iambic pentameter; some are complicated, others less so, but always he was aware of rhythm and form.

During that first year after we met, we found and admired the poetry of Louise Gluck and Larry Levis. Joe loved Gluck's "The Garden." Robert Hass was a major influence. Joe could recite "Meditation at Lagunitas" from memory. He had an unusually deep voice; it was always an indulgence to listen to him read or recite poetry. And he loved to hear poetry read aloud. The sound of the words was always important.

Joe considered poetry to be the highest art form, but he loved all of the arts. He could play the guitar, and he had a fine singing voice. He was really quite gifted that way, and could have been a musician had he not been more interested in poetry.

He talked me into taking 20th Century Art with him, and much of what we learned inevitably found its way into his poetry. He was one of the most intelligent people I have ever known, and he was always bringing me books that I just had to read. He was particularly impressed with Gabriel Garcia Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude; he loved the opening lines about how the world was so new that in order to indicate something it was necessary to point. I remember him insisting that I read Gary Zukav's The Dancing Wu Li Masters: An Overview of the New Physics. He was constantly reading or writing.

He had a strong belief in the value of his own work, and yet he had a vulnerable side. Like most of us, he needed reassurance at times, but for the most part, he was sure of what he wanted, and he knew how to make it happen. He wanted to succeed at writing poetry. He wanted to have his work recognized, and I do believe that will happen.

FOUR POEMS Page
Departure
Adult Situations
A Sort of Praise

MORE PHOTOS

Want more of Joe's Poetry? Take a look at Oy Boy: Oyster Boy Review #7...
and #2

Or Order Joe's book Days of Summer Gone; Poems