Poet Linda Gregg, whose poems the late W.S. Merwin had praised for being "original in the way that really matters: they speak clearly of their source," died March 19. She was 76. In a statement, Graywolf Press said it is "deeply saddened at the death of Linda Gregg. Her presence, like her work, was passionate, dazzling, and enduring. Since the publication of her exquisite Too Bright to See in 1981 to the publication of her award-winning All of It Singing: New and Selected Poems in 2008, Graywolf has been honored to be Linda Gregg's publisher. She is one of the greats, and she is missed."
Gregg's other books include In the Middle Distance; Things and Flesh; Chosen by the Lion; Sacraments of Desire; and Too Bright to See & Alma. Among her many awards were the Whiting Writers' Award; Sara Teasdale Award; PEN/Voelcker Award for Poetry; Poetry Society of America's William Carlos Williams Award; Jerome J. Shestack Poetry Prize; and numerous Pushcart Prizes.
"I first encountered Linda Gregg's voice, back when I was a student, via her poem 'Let Birds,' " said U.S. poet laureate Tracy K. Smith. "I loved that poem's fearlessness, which seemed to be responsible for both its wild leaping energy, and its almost otherworldly intelligence. Having lived with her poems for decades now, I have learned immeasurably--and been immeasurably consoled--by those things, as well as by her belief in the rocks, the earth, the body, the sea, passion, rage, joy and calm. It's that abundance, and the clean sharp mind capable of making meaning of it all, that most characterizes Gregg for me. No--not Gregg, but Linda. Because it is Linda whom I miss and love. Linda who was my teacher, my colleague and friend--and who remains a powerful ambassador for poetry's weight and its light, for its wisdom and purity as an art form and a way of life."
From "Let Birds":
I will never give up longing.
I will let my hair stay long.
The rain proclaims these trees,
the trees tell of the sun.
Let birds, let birds.
Let leaf be passion.
Let jaw, let teeth, let tongue be
between us. Let joy.
Let entering. Let rage and calm join.
Let quail come.
Let winter impress you. Let spring.
Allow the ocean to wake in you.
Let the mare in the field
in the summer morning mist
make you whinny. Make you come
to the fence and whinny. Let birds.