I’ve been hanging out with the poet and essayist Ross Gay for the past few weeks, which is a really sweet hang.
And by hanging with Ross I mean reading his words, hearing his voice in the words, seeing his big smile in my mind’s eye, and listening to him read his poems with instrumental backing from folks like Bon Iver and Mary Lattimore. I think I would enjoy an IRL hang with Ross if circumstances ever allowed; he just seems like the kind of dude who’d be up for a cold drink on the screen porch on a warm afternoon—after tending the garden, that is. After getting on your knees and nuzzling some dead nettle and common violets, that is. After paying attention to the world, “the world a flummoxment of beauty bells ringing in your every periphery,” that is.
I’ll be in Ross’s presence soon, in fact, as my nonprofit arts org, The Porch, is bringing him to Nashville to read from his work and be our guest of honor at our annual fundraiser and 10-year anniversary celebration. Which is awesome, really it is, I’m looking forward to it (despite how planning a fundraiser tries to kill me year upon year), but c’mon, let’s be honest: A fundraiser and a public reading is a far cry from a screen porch hang. It’s not a situation where you can get to know someone, or relax around them, and you certainly can’t point to the backyard and say, “Heyyy, there’s a bluebird checkin’ out that box!”
Ross’s poetry collection Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude should be in every home on the planet, imho; but he really hit the mainstream with The Book of Delights, and now there’s The Book of (More) Delights, and he could probably go on delighting for the rest of his life, and I suspect he in fact will—once you tune your brain to the key of delight, you’ll hear delight in all of life’s melodies, it’s true!—but I also imagine he has poems yet to share, other meanderings; this will not be, like, some Delight Franchise. One of my favorite things about Ross’s delights are how they are not without “useful rage” and frank observation of the fucked-upedness of many aspects of our lives in this country. His thinking about joy and delight insists upon the way delight and joy are inseparable from resistance and sorrow. I think he’s at his best when he’s getting a little testy in the midst of delight, and also when he’s playing for laughs. Sometimes he’s doing all three at once: finding humor, finding delight, acknowledging injustice and daily grievances. It’s a marvel, how he pulls it off. I love how his writing is full of delight in the textures and rhythms and sonic play of language, but he is also happy to drop F-bombs. I love how he creates words, harvests his own language. He’s a man of the earth, in all ways.
This piece by Margaret Roach, focused on his gardening, is a pretty great introduction to his whole vibe.
I hold this poem close to my heart.
Porch intern Elisabeth Moss and I created a playlist in honor of Ross’s visit, and I adore it, honestly. It includes several songs he mentions in his essay on covers in Inciting Joy, plus tunes by Langhorne Slim (who’ll be playing at our fundraiser), some favorites of Tiana Clark (who’ll be in conversation with Ross at the fundraiser), and a handful songs we just found simpatico with his work. It’s a real good companion for a spring walk. A Love Supreme! It’s a Wonderful World! O-o-h Child! I Believe (When I Fall In Love It Will Be Forever)!
If nothing else, listen to him read “Burial,” with backing from Mary Lattimore, and try not to sob.
Check out the blog post Elisabeth created, with examples of Ross reading his work and some podcast episodes featuring him.
His delight about dandelions, “Truly Overnight It Seems,” is perfection, and if you’re a paying subscriber and want me to send you the pdf, I will. “Missives from the dead, these little festive blooms. To which, I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to listen.” (You’ll never look at dandelions the same again, I promise.)
“I’m a flower guy,” he writes in “Sunflower in the Mortar,” another fave of mine. (And another I will pdf for paid subscribers; just ask.) “[H]ow often, perhaps most often, delight is shown to you by someone tugging your arm; how often, perhaps most often, delight makes you want to tug someone’s arm.”
Thank you for letting me tug your arm.
delights of the musical sort:
The new music bounty keeps bounty-ing! Out TODAY, new albums by two wonderful songwriters:
And you probably know that there’s also a new Kacey Musgraves record that Nashville is positively ga-ga for. I like what I’ve heard, too.