from the ether

On Birds, Barbarians, and

The Best American Poetry

I’m writing this column in the last week of winter. Out the window, two dark-eyed juncos, male, typically such shy little cuties, continue to perform a dancing duel across the deck rail. Puffed up, tail feathers fanned (who knew they had stripes!) junco #1 stands tall, neck upstretched, as if to demonstrate a superior height. This gesture elicits a similar response from junco #2. Heads bob back and forth until they suddenly spring midair and perform an aerial battle, a suspension of flutter and feathers flashing, quite lovely to see actually. And yet, given the nearly-spring season, this seeming ballet must be a turf war of sorts, whether for mate or territory.

A tale as old as time.

Though retired, I continue to teach. This winter, I began another poetry workshop using as our source text The Best American Poetry annual anthology. Annual, that is, until last year. Founding editor David Lehman announced that the 2025 edition would be the last of this fine, really quite wonderful series, one he’d begun way back in 1988. What a service to American poetry and poets this series has proven to be. Its diverse offerings of 75 poems chosen by a different renowned poet each year draws from literary publications both well-established and lesser known. Each edition not only reflects the sensibilities of the individual poet editor, but offers a window, a chronicle of our times in the works of a distinctive and changing array of poets.

While many have bristled at the idea of “best,” I have found the series to be just that, an essential contribution to an understanding of the dynamic world of American poetics, even as the representative poets are contributing to what American poetics can be. It’s a great title! Everyone has favorites. These “bests” offer exposure and critical reflection inviting if not challenging us to look outside our own sometimes insular preferences, or at least to understand them better. I have found the series to be more often democratizing than reinforcing some hierarchy. Hats off, Mr. Lehman.

Anyway, having taught the final 2025 edition last fall, what to use next? Look back in the Best American catalog, of course! I chose the edition edited by Rita Dove. The year, 2000. Y2K. Millennial madness. A world on edge, preparing for doomsday. A tale as old as time. In an earlier era seemingly on the brink, what were poets thinking? What the similarities to today? What perspectives might be gained? I was excited to jump in.

The workshop includes a close look at both Lehman’s foreword, actually a look back at poetry trends and events from the previous year, and the guest editor’s introduction, typically a sort of editorial apologia for claiming “best.” I was particularly struck in that reading by Dove’s closing paragraph. Written twenty-five years ago, her admonishment seems just as pertinent today. I have permission to reprint that paragraph below.

Like all artists, we poets cannot afford to shut ourselves away in our separate discipline, honing our specialized tools while the barbarians—no matter if they are religious fanatics or materialistic profitmongers—continue to sharpen their broadswords. Stepping into the fray of life does not mean dissipation of one’s creative powers; it may mean less sleep, but it may also mean survival. The reward is a connection on a visceral level with the world as it reshapes its destiny for the new century’s countdown.”    ~Rita Dove, Best American Poetry 2000