Books like Jackself — picked by fans

I have published 18 books of poetry, most recently the one I have listed here, as well as a collection of literary essays, Fables of Representation. My emphasis has always been on the more progressive and risk-taking kinds of expression, as seen with the Beat poets, Ginsberg and Corso, and the New York School poets, Ashbery and O'Hara. Seeing a lack of that perspective on bookshelves, I edited two editions of a major anthology, Postmodern American Poetry: A Norton Anthology, and 42 issues of the literary magazine, New American Writing. I have been reading, more recently, a lot of great writing by women, especially those writing at length, with the volume up. 

I am a British poet living in the Peak District in Derbyshire, which is perhaps why I can’t stop the natural world from coming into my poems. My writing shed at the top of the garden looks out over a field and up to a limestone outcrop with a stand of beech trees. When there are no poems, I sit and watch the birds and wait for the sheep to trundle down the hill at the end of the afternoon. I read poems about nature because those are the ones I love best–poems that might capture something I’ve noticed but that put it into a beautiful and startling new language.

I am a British poet living in the Peak District in Derbyshire, which is perhaps why I can’t stop the natural world from coming into my poems. My writing shed at the top of the garden looks out over a field and up to a limestone outcrop with a stand of beech trees. When there are no poems, I sit and watch the birds and wait for the sheep to trundle down the hill at the end of the afternoon. I read poems about nature because those are the ones I love best–poems that might capture something I’ve noticed but that put it into a beautiful and startling new language.

I am a British poet living in the Peak District in Derbyshire, which is perhaps why I can’t stop the natural world from coming into my poems. My writing shed at the top of the garden looks out over a field and up to a limestone outcrop with a stand of beech trees. When there are no poems, I sit and watch the birds and wait for the sheep to trundle down the hill at the end of the afternoon. I read poems about nature because those are the ones I love best–poems that might capture something I’ve noticed but that put it into a beautiful and startling new language.

I am a huge fan of Halloween and love decorating my porch to greet our neighborhood kids. This past year I gave away a couple dozen copies of my own picture books along with candy, which was a huge hit. I live in Baltimore with my family, including my silly, spooky kid, and love animals, especially dogs and horses. This past Halloween, my daughter wanted to dress up as a dentist, of all things, so my husband and I went along dressed up as giant teeth. She never got the irony of asking for candy while dressed as a dentist. We’ll have to wait until she is older for that. 

Ever since I can remember, during difficult periods, or just when I needed inspiration, I have turned to poetry. Eventually, I became so in love with poetry that I became a poet. I believe these five books of poetry will offer even a reader who is generally not drawn to poetry solace and strength and inspiration. I would go so far as to say each of these poetry collections has changed me for the better.

People come to songwriting from all different directions. Some have wanted to do this since they were little kids. Some like to make their parents mad. Some are wildly talented but crippled with doubt. All I can say is that no matter which way you’re facing, I think I can help you. I say this because I’ve been teaching college-level songwriting for years now, and every semester I have students who want to meet with me for office hours. They’re all repeat customers and I’ve noticed that many of them ask repeat questions. The point of my book, Music, Lyrics, and Life, is to try to address those repeat questions because chances are good that you have them, too. 

Years ago, I returned to school at Mount Holyoke College to complete my bachelor’s degree in American Studies. I took a course on Emily Dickinson at the poet’s home in Amherst, Massachusetts—what a thrill! On the first day of class I learned that for sixteen years Emily’s constant companion was Carlo, a Newfoundland dog. Having experienced a hairy, slobbery encounter with a Newf when I was twenty while wearing a white dress, I knew the myth of Emily, pristinely dressed, untouched by the more earthy emotions was wrong. A new story needed to be told. That was the beginning of Emily and Carlo.

I lived most of my life in Hawai‘i’s multiethnic community—an amazing place, where, for the most part, people of diverse ancestries got along. The foundation of tolerance was the culture of Native Hawaiians, who lived isolated from outsiders for centuries before the nineteenth century and thus had few prejudicial ideas about others. The natives generally welcomed them and adopted their beliefs. While confrontations and violence occurred, they were limited, not long-term or widespread. Of course, outsiders brought their racial and cultural prejudices, but, today, with a high rate of intermarriages among all the ethnic groups, Hawai'i is one of the most integrated societies in the world.

As someone who served in Iraq with the Army in 2004, I have been inspired and—in many ways—saved by the work of these American veterans who wrote before me. In their work, they showed me a path in which to write and live. While I would love to list more books, these are the ones that I’ve been going back to most recently. Beyond simply capturing “war,” all of these writers reckon with mortality, loss, longing, and love.