Thank you, Burt, for this rememberance I just chanced upon. Having left NJIT in 1997, I was memorably impressed when I got to hear Enid read somewhere near St. Mark's that winter of 2003, for she was getting better and better as a poet. That is perhaps the greatest "value" I have found in the example of the generation that preceed us, that growth is ongoing and possible. So when I heard she died, weeks or even days later it seemed, I couldn't quite believe it; she hadn't looked sick. So, thank you for reminding us of her clear and quiet, consistent voice, one from whom I can still now, perhaps only now, learn a thing or two about intimacy.
Thank you, Burt, for this rememberance I just chanced upon. Having left NJIT in 1997, I was duly impressed when I heard Enid read from Stone Shekinah somewhere near St. Mark's that winter of 2003; I thought she was getting beter and better as a poet. In my experience it is above all else this value that we receive from preceeding generations, that growth is ongoing and possible. So when I heard what seemed like only a week or two later that she died I was stunned; she hadn't looked sick and I was unaware of the cancer returning. So, again, thank you for reminding us of her clear and quiet, consistent voice, one from whom I can still now, and perhaps only now, learn a thing or two about intimacy.
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Thank you, Burt, for this rememberance I just chanced upon. Having left NJIT in 1997, I was memorably impressed when I got to hear Enid read somewhere near St. Mark's that winter of 2003, for she was getting better and better as a poet. That is perhaps the greatest "value" I have found in the example of the generation that preceed us, that growth is ongoing and possible. So when I heard she died, weeks or even days later it seemed, I couldn't quite believe it; she hadn't looked sick. So, thank you for reminding us of her clear and quiet, consistent voice, one from whom I can still now, perhaps only now, learn a thing or two about intimacy.
Thank you, Burt, for this rememberance I just chanced upon. Having left NJIT in 1997, I was duly impressed when I heard Enid read from Stone Shekinah somewhere near St. Mark's that winter of 2003; I thought she was getting beter and better as a poet. In my experience it is above all else this value that we receive from preceeding generations, that growth is ongoing and possible. So when I heard what seemed like only a week or two later that she died I was stunned; she hadn't looked sick and I was unaware of the cancer returning. So, again, thank you for reminding us of her clear and quiet, consistent voice, one from whom I can still now, and perhaps only now, learn a thing or two about intimacy.
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