Current co-editors Jody Bolz and Ethelbert Miller — both accomplished Washington-area poets — took over the biannual magazine in 2002. They open each issue with a brief introduction and then arrange the six dozen or so poems that follow in what they call “a conversation with each other.” Famous names mingle freely with debut authors.
“Ethelbert and I have no ‘first readers,’” Bolz says. “We read everything that comes in” — about 1,000 poems a month — “and choose maybe 60 poems to discuss at our editorial meetings, reading them aloud to one another, before settling on the 12 to 15 we’ll accept. If there’s no music when we’re reading to each other, we can hear the thud.”
Miller says, “Our vision is linked to our ability to listen and present the diverse voices that continue to sing in this nation and beyond. I see our magazine upholding tradition while being as daring as Monk, Parker or Miles. We embrace the new without fear or regret.”
Listening for that rare music amid a cacophony of dullness is what the magazine’s critical success depends on. “We select the poems that make us forget we’re editors,” Bolz says, “poems that engage us as readers because they’re unsettled and unsettling in some deeply authentic way. We’re not interested in cleverness or fashion or self-conscious edginess. We’re interested in art.”
And their labor doesn’t stop at the point of acceptance. “We want the best work, not the most polished work,” Bolz says. “We’ll often take an ambitious, authentic poem that’s rough around the edges and work through revisions with the poet.”
Clearly, they’re both evangelists for verse, just the kind of true believers to keep an old journal vibrant. “Poems are more necessary than ever in this age of distraction,” Bolz says. “Poetry can engage a reader in a way no other language does, which is why people turn to it at the most important moments in their lives — at weddings and christenings and coming of age ceremonies and funerals, and in times of national crisis, too. History offers a record of events, but poetry has always offered a record of human feeling.”
Asked to name a poet they’re most proud of publishing recently, Bolz and Miller immediately name Christopher Presfield, who spent 38 years in prison. His poems arrived in the mail handwritten on lined paper. But that didn’t matter. They read them. His series “Elegies for the Fallen” appears in the current issue.
Despite the considerable expense of physical publication and the lure of the Web, the editors are committed to remaining a bound journal. “I want people to smell Poet Lore when they first get it,” Miller says. “I want people to take this magazine to bed and to reach for it in the middle of the night. I want people to touch a page and not a screen. Place Poet Lore next to the fountain pen. After all the e-mail, I want folks to still collect stamps and read our magazine.”
And Bolz points to the unique advantages of paper: “In print we can offer visual adjacency (poems on facing pages) and a broad narrative arc (in the way we sequence the poems).”
The editors are planning a special 125th anniversary issue this fall along with a gala on Sept. 15 at the Folger Library. Bolz notes that this is a particularly appropriate setting “because Poet Lore’s founders, Helen Clarke and Charlotte Porter, were Shakespeare scholars who left their archives to the Folger.”
For the past 25 years, Poet Lore has been published by the nonprofit Writer’s Center in Bethesda, Md. “Without a publisher willing to support it for its cultural value — a value that doesn’t appear on any spreadsheet — no poetry journal would survive,” Bolz says.
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