Why poets are like James Bond villains

Let me begin my first column of the new year with an announcement: I was selected to be the next poet laureate of Bethel. This makes me a little nervous, because although Cortney Davis, the laureate emerita of Bethel, is much smaller than me, her poetic shoes, which I must now fill, are daunting. Also, a fair warning: my columns will now have at least 50 percent more poetry than in the past.

I will officially take over the position soon, and Cortney and I will get together for a passing of the torch reading at the Bethel library in May.

The poetry community sometimes reminds me a little bit of a scene in the beginning of the James Bond film “Quantum of Solace,” when Mr. White, the bad guy, laughingly informs M and Bond that his people are everywhere. We poets are not nearly as nefarious as Mr. White’s evil organization (usually), but we are everywhere. That nice woman who nods to you when you walk past her in the park? She’s a poet. That kid sipping a coffee on Molten Java’s porch? Yup — a poet. That person on Facebook crowing about their Wordle score? Of course. Don’t be afraid, because, as I said, we’re not really dangerous. We just like words and language a lot.

I am being a little bit facetious, but, as I wrote about in a column a couple of years ago, the mere mention of poetry can make ordinary people nervous. I think this is because we have fallen into the trap of thinking poetry is always necessarily a lofty, intimidating, and exclusive club. The club is an enormous tent, though, and we are always looking for more to join us.

The fear and loathing of poetry that I see pop up here and there reminds me of a passage from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s “The Poet,” where he addresses the misconceptions people have about poetry. He points out that we all speak in symbolic terms constantly. He lists things such as the U.S. flag — a big billowing symbol flying in front of municipal buildings and schools and houses. People think they hate poetry, he argues, but we are all poets and mystics.

A big part of my job as poet laureate, then, will be to keep working to demystify poetry and trying to show just how accessible, vital, and joyous it can be. (It can be dark and troubling as well, but I’ll save that for later.) I will be leading readings, workshops, and discussions. I will take over #hashtags in the spirit of #bethelpoetry and try to get as many of you involved as I can. I will be announcing events, cheerleading for poetry, and asking for my readers’ input.

Poetry is not as hard and intimidating as we think it is. I started writing poetry when I was the same age my son is now (9, that is), and I proudly showed them off to my teacher, who sent them on to Highlights magazine. Unfortunately, the magazine decided not to print them, and I still have the rejection letter in a box in my basement. If I could write poems, send them in, and survive rejection as a fourth-grader, I think most of us can deal with big, bad, and scary poetry.

Although we poets don’t have the fast cars and fancy gadgets of a Bond villain (I’m going to work on changing this), we are everywhere, and I invite you to join us.