Yesterday, I left Massachusetts just after 4 a.m., met my travel partner Jarita Davis in Connecticut, and arrived after a rain-soaked drive to Waterloo Village in Stanhope, New Jersey, home of the Dodge Poetry Festival. This place has become a touchstone for me. It’s a place where like-minded people come together to listen and have conversations about a craft that most people could care less about. That’s what makes this place special.
For those who have never been, you buy a ticket for the event and wander from venue to venue. The events are outside but held in tents. The main stage tent holds somewhere between 3-5K people while the smaller tents hold 200-500 people. No pressure to buy books, but there is a healthy collection to choose from.
On Friday, I was on festival grounds from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m., leaving only to check into the hotel and grab a bite to eat. Today and tomorrow promise the same intensity. Admittely, I almost fell asleep during Lucille Clifton’s reading—I know, I know, heaven forbid. Not a reflection on her, of course. I was up very early Friday morning and the day caught up with me.
While the festival ends on Sunday, I will post as much as I can—and now I have more content than I can handle.
And a warning—forgive the typos!