Here, I read poems for thirty-five minutes. I show original photographs. I looked at photos on my iPhone, and I sorted through the photo files on my computer. I went with what I was feeling at the moment, ending up with many nature pictures and some people pictures.

I have had a long relationship with the writings of William Shakespeare; when I was a freshman at Ferris State College in the fall of 1967, I paid a few dollars for a thick book of the complete works of William Shakespeare—the paper was pulpy newsprint; it would not last forever. Every night, I read from it, mostly the sonnets. “Then can I drown an eye, unus’d to flow,
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night.” How can you put that much original thought in a couple of lines? I know only this: It is, thus far, unmatched in the history of humankind.

I came to the conclusion a long time ago that poetry—for me at least—amounts to serviceable sentences. I will show you what I mean in the next sentences: I went to the store and bought some eggs; I brought them home and scrambled some of them in a skillet. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. They are the same; they are exactly the same. They say something to someone. They are not quaint, fancy, old words that must take on some artificial inflection. They are serviceable sentences—they say something to someone. Also this: Modern writers will tell you to avoid adjectives, along with most other descriptive words. Ignore them: A well-placed adjective is a thing of beauty; don’t be afraid.

I end up reading some Emily Dickinson toward the end of my slideshow. Who can forget a line like: ‘”Hope” is a thing with feathers.’

I followed the order of works in the fifth edition of The Norton Anthology of Poetry, more or less. Here are the poems:

Sonnets:

18

30

33

35

55

60

65

71

73

76

87

94

97

106

116

126

129

130

135

138

144

146

1

Emily Dickinson poems:

I Heard a Fly Buzz: 465

Because I Could Not Stop for Death: 712

A Bird Came Down the Walk: 328

“Hope” Is a Thing with Feathers: 314

There’s a Certain Slant of Light: 258

I’m Nobody!: 260