Hug an LGBTQ poet today (and tomorrow and the next day)!

Tomorrow kicks off LGBTQ history month! In honor, I want to try to cover some of my favorite LGBTQ poets. While I was doing research for this blog post, I was honestly trying to think of an earnestly heteronormative poet and I honestly couldn't. I guess I can only really think of Sylvia Plath and Seamus Heaney. Okay, now that I'm really thinking about it, I can put my finger on several. Regardless, I guess my point is that poetry has been a timeless safe space for us queers.

Poets of ambiguous or clearly stated LGBTQ sexualities who I totally dig:

1. Edna St. Vincent Millay (the poet this blog was titled after)
2. Oscar Wilde (never read a lot of his poetry, but it's brilliant and I love his stories)
3. Lord Byron
4. Elizabeth Bishop (One Art will always be my favorite of her poems)
5. Emily Dickinson (this one was a shock to me, but is apparently a thing. Susan)
6. Sappho (Duh)
7. Georgia Douglas Johnson
8. Maureen McLane (Syntax is honestly one of the best poems I've read in ten years)
9. Audre Lorde
10. Adrienne Rich
11. Allen Ginsberg
12. William Shakespeare (obviously)
13. Marilyn Hacker
14. Langston Hughes

Please note that I have left out several famous spoken word folks- I think I've already babbled about how I feel about spoken word, slam jam, poetry jams, etc., etc., but I'll leave it simply at this: I characterize spoken word as more as a vein of performance art then a form of poetry. While I admit there is an intersection, it's the difference between a tomato and a peach. 

With respect, this is a fairly sparse, pedantic list. If you're more into post modern poetry, the poets you want to check out from this list are Maureen McLane, Audre Lorde, Adrienne Rich, etc; with the exception of Maureen McLane, these are all fairly canonical poets. There are a plethora of fabulous, current LGBTQ poets and I definitely intend to delve into their work this month. I just wanted to start from my base of knowledge, the original fires of my love.

But don't take my word for it- here are some good articles about LGBTQ poets:

• Ten Lesbian and Bisexual Poets to Fall In Love With
• 8 Great Poets that can Break Our Hearts
• 5 Gay Poets and Playwrights for LGBT History Month

What would your list look like? Who speaks to you? 

An-tici-pay-tion

Strike me down dead, I'm not a Rocky Horror fan. *GASP* *SHOCK* *HORROR* But this fit the moment.

It's April and 80F in the house. It's stifling. I'm suffering from some serious insomnia. I'm disgustingly excited about April starting. Honestly, it's just weird.

I can thank that bout of insomnia and excitement for the fact that I am awake to herald in National Poetry Month. Happy National Poetry Month, friends!

It still feels a little awkward. We have lost amazing poets in the last 12 months, the most recent being Adrienne Rich. I can tell you the moment I discovered AR. I was at the public library and I decided to sit down and check out the magazine section. I stumbled upon what I can only guess was some sort of feminist lit mag- don't ask me the name. It had names that I now recognize as strong feminist writers. I was flipping through the pages, and fell on a poem that I think had something to do with grapefruits.

Okay, so it's a vague memory, Okay, Okay. Either way, I read it over and tried to memorize it, but I didn't have a dime to make a copy and I couldn't check out the magazine. I loved it.

I won't go into AR's dubious theory about gender and relationships. As a poet, she was stunning. I found an article in The Nation, quoting Cheryl Walker, that described her body of work as follows:

This poetry is deadly serious, but it is not, like so much of women’s poetry in the past, death-enamored. For it is the poet’s appetite, her undeniable life force, which sustains these operations.

and it's really hit a chord with me. What a powerful thing to be able to communicate... what strength in that evocation.

Anyway.

I was also skimming through the poetry section of decomP magazine and found a poem that I wanted to share:

77   

Rusty William Porter

For too long/ I have looked up/ and into the sun

Searching for something/ that I can carry back.

But as the gods/ never are kind/ to those who steal their light

My eyes are now mute/ speaking no truth/ and telling no lies.

Hope you all have a lovely Monday.