Showing posts from September, 2018
The Poet in the Mirror
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"Play it Again, Sam..."
If you're thinking about the film Casablanca, that's not surprising. At least in my generation, that reference is well known. What you may not know is that my personal reference this time is to Sam Cornish, the Poet, who passed away recently. He was in the year of his eighty-third birthday. He was a native son of Baltimore. He was a friend.
This morning I got up thinking about Sam and poetry and friendship among poets. A kind of bottom line came to me. If you value the friendship of a poet, you inevitably come to think of how much you value the person of the poet, or the work of the poet. As poets, are we our work? Or are we more than our work. Of course, we are more than our work, you might say.
Baltimore is a large city with a small town consciousness. It is so close to Washington D.C. that it suffers from a certain n…