Not Your Father's Poetry - Nine Horses, by Billy Collins

If you have the common misconception that poetry is only for eggheads, that it is impossibly complex, and that it has nothing to say to you, have I got the poet for you. Meet Billy Collins, who writes some of the most engaging and accessible poetry being written today.

If you have the common misconception that poetry, if paired with the adjective “accessible”, is inane, sing-song, and shallow, have I got the poet for you. Meet Billy Collins, former U.S. Poet Laureate, Distinguished Professor of English at Lehman College, and winner of dozens of awards and honors for his work. His poetry has been included in the Advanced Placement examinations given to high school students annually, marking it as culturally and academically significant.

Collins is a thoughtful and humorous poet, which I don’t need to tell you is a rare combination. He coats his profundity in humor; there’s a depth to it that you might not expect from the tone. The poems often start out on a certain, very innocent topic, develop it with some striking, clever imagery, then turn a corner at the end to bring the momentum they’ve developed into a surprising new path.

It will be tempting to gorge on these poems, but you must be disciplined. Only read one, or perhaps two, a day. Don’t rush through them. Read them aloud, slowly, and let the words and phrases catch you by surprise. Read the poem more than once, and carry it with you through the day, letting it echo in your head. Stick it in your pocket for later, and bring it out when you stop for lunch or a cup of coffee. Many of these poems hold up to multiple readings.

This is the sixth book of poetry by Billy Collins that I’ve read, and though none of the poems in it have become my favorite Collins poem, it still has several remarkably good, memorable poems. I debated among seven representative poems to post here. They are all good, and on another day I could very easily have chosen another poem from the book as the best one to share. Here’s my offering for today.

Tipping Point

At home, the jazz station plays all day,

so sometimes it becomes indistinct,

like the sound of rain,

birds in the background, the surf of traffic.

But today I heard a voice announce

that Eric Dolphy, 36 when he died,

has now been dead for 36 years.

I wonder—

did anyone sense something

when another Eric Dolphy lifetime

was added to the span of his life,

when we all took another

full Dolphy step forward in time,

flipped over the Eric Dolphy yardstick once again?

It would have been so subtle—

like the sensation you might feel

as you passed through the moment

at the exact center of your life

or as you crossed the equator at night in a boat.

I never gave it another thought,

but could that have been the little shift

I sensed a while ago

as I walked down in the rain to get the mail?

Billy Collins, from Nine Horses