I really enjoyed my Maine Poets Society gig on Saturday morning. Such a pleasant group of people, and so interested in listening and talking. I ended up dropping the Wilbur poem, which I had become less compelling to me. But when I read aloud Carruth's "Adolph Eichmann," you could have heard a pin drop. At that moment everyone in the room knew the poem had done its work in this world.

I tried to find it on the Internet so that I could leave a link for you here, but it's not posted anywhere. Find it if you can, however. It's about uncontrollable hate and is written in a highly controlled version of terza rima. The end result is stunning.

Yes, I know I talk a lot about Hayden on this blog, but I can't get over how wonderful his work is. As I told a friend yesterday, he can write; he can think; he can feel. His best poems are technically, morally, and emotionally dazzling. I wish they were mine.