Not so "Long Journey" to Portland reading

Seven of those featured in a new collection by Northwest poets now live in the city

By J. David Santen, Jr.

"There is no such thing as regional poetry," David Biespiel began, reading from his foreword to "Long Journey: Contemporary Northwest Poets," the new poetry collection he's assembled. By way of explanation: "William Stafford is the finest Oregon poet that the state of Kansas ever produced."

An event Thursday at Broadway Books celebrated "Long Journey's" publication with contributors reading a poem of their own and another's of their choosing. It was the eighth "Long Journey" reading in 10 days, covering much of the Pacific Northwest.

Every seat in the store was occupied, including two stools pulled out from behind the counter, as about 40 attendees faced the back of the room--where shelves of fiction, mystery, women's studies and science fiction converged on a microphone.

Poets in the collection hail from Alaska, British Columbia, Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and western Montana; the seven present on this night now called Portland home. Jan Lee Ande (Tacoma) went first, "by virtue of marrying a man whose last name begins with 'A.'" Michele Glazer (Oregon native) came next; her piece "Historic House, Astoria" was perhaps the most geographically appropriate of the evening. "It isn't the room I want but the view from out the window," she read.

Kathleen Halme III (Michigan's Upper Peninsula), who noted her susceptibility to cadence, read a Richard Kenney poem from the collection, wishing aloud that she had written it. Jerry Harp (southern Indiana), qualifying with only a couple of years' Northwest residency under his belt, followed.

Biespiel (who writes a monthly poetry column for The Oregonian) introduced each poet with a biographic sketch from the compilation, then disappeared behind a bookshelf in the back corner of the shop to make room for the reader. Ursula K. Le Guin (Berkeley, Calif.), whose first published works were poetry rather than fiction, made her way to the microphone and gestured over her shoulder at the bookcase concealing Biespiel from view.

What does David do back there?" she asked with a smile.

Floyd Skloot (Brooklyn, N.Y.) and Mary Szybist (Williamsport, Penn.) each took their turns, and then one final poet read two pieces from the book, neither of which were his. Curiously, he alone had not a single piece selected for this collectionn of more than 80 poets, though surely his publishing record rated well enough to make the cut. And it wasn't as though he didn't have an in--he was, after all, editor David Biespiel.

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J. David Santen, Jr. is a Portland writer.