After more than 2 years of a long, strange and wonderful journey (living on deds, Vitamin B, and caffeine), I found my 200th poet's grave yesterday-- in New Jersey, of all places. YAHOO and Praise the Lord!
it was raining, I was tired, but the life and poetry of Afred Gibbs Campbell seemed to be calling from the grave, and I just happened to drive into the entrance to a Party Store. So.....sometime around 5 PM, in ye olde Presbyterian graveyard in Mercerville, we had a happy deadday party, complete with Carvel ice cream, a top hat, shiny red beads, candles and a party popper that shot confetti into the grey, rainy sky.
Then, as the clock struck six, and the lovely old hymns came melodiously flowing from the weather-beaten steeple, we sent up to Alred a ballon saying "Welcome Home" It was a great way to celebrate a Grand Finale to roughly 20,000 miles of good times and good friends in search of the graves of America's poets (those buried East of the Mississippi)
I would like to thank all of those fabulous people I met along the way who made dead poets come alive by your readings, and for showing me that poetry lives through your lives.
What's next? Well, since you asked....if you don't mind funding it I will lead you next summer on a one month journey through Ireland, England, France, Italy, Poland and Austria to visit the graves of American poets buried abroad. (See, the map is already done)