In describing a poet’s work, Longenbach

wrote, “Poetry is what we do with memories,

and remembering is what we do with tears.”

 

Those, especially the females, who read an-

other poet’s book of musings, vignettes and

poems, as if in unison, said, “Your poems

 

brought tears to my eyes.” A couple of males,

which that poet would conclude were partic-

ularly in touch with their feelings, said they

 

cried, too, but not so openly. That poet wond-

ered if his own remembering struck a chord

with the readers, not necessarily invoking his

 

memories and consequently crying empathic-

ally with that poet because of his memories,

but rather tearing up because his memories

 

evoked some of their own and thus their own

crying for themselves — like the young

man who cried almost uncontrollably at the

 

viewing of the body of a loved one in some-

one else’s family. He didn’t know the deceas-

ed but he knew his own father who had died

 

seven months before. It made the poet wonder

about Longenbach’s statement. Is remember-

ing what we do with tears or do tears come

 

with the remembering? It’s kind of a chicken

and egg thing, besides, who is or was Longen-

bach? He’s just a google away.