Word: poetes
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...your article, "Edibility Gap" [Dec. 6]. Included in your photo of ostentatious restaurant menus was one of obvious Roman vintage touting the gustatory delights of a New York establishment with acute illusions of classical grandeur. Atop the menu, in flawless (if somewhat perfunctory) Latin, were the words of the poet Catullus: "You will dine well at my table." Whereas the rest of the menu appears hopelessly verbose, its author was here perhaps all too brief, for, loosely translated, Catullus actually wrote: "You will dine well at my table if you are lucky-provided that you bring your own dinner...
Shortly after Hardy arrived in Moscow, Poet Evgeny Evtushenko, an old friend, came round to his hotel. "We meet at a moment of truth," Evtushenko told him. "I wrote to my government to oppose the action in Czechoslovakia...
...POET AT ALL. SO IT IS WITH GOVERNMENTS. YOU CAN SENSE THE FRAUD...
Respectful of his heritage, Wilbur stood patiently last week before a lot of people who like Norman Mailer and Sylvia Plath (which is alright!) and read like a poet exhausted by the age. At dinner, he'd said something about growing "older and more vulgar," but in Burr he seemed young, and strangely erudite. Introducing one of his poems, "A Baroque Wall Fountain in the Villa," he dismissed the question of "transcendance and acceptance" as "sounding too much like a critic," but at other moments talked offhandedly of Pascal ("The spirit doesn't have any business denying things...
...strange to us now, like relatives who died a long time ago. It's not that nothing good is being written, but only that American poetry has become more diffuse and less identifiable. The fascination of its origins and of its other possibilities. Wilbur is really about the only poet writing now who refuses to relinquish language entirely to the age, but insists on keeping it "Preserved as by no hero's pains...