I almost missed it — but Anne pointed out to me that on Tuesday it was Philip Levine’s birthday. And since he’s one of my favorite poets I thought it was rude to let the occasion go unnoticed, even if it is a week late:
After college, he tried getting a job in advertising, but he couldn’t stand it, so he supported himself working in various auto factories around Detroit. Looking around at the other men in the factories, he realized none of them had a voice. Nobody was speaking for them or writing for them. He said, “As young people will… I took this foolish vow that I would speak for them, and that’s what my life would be. And sure enough I’ve gone and done it. Or I’ve tried anyway.”
Philip Levine said, “In a curious way, I’m not much interested in language. In my ideal poem, no words are noticed. You look through them into a vision of… just see the people, the place.”