Saturday, October 13, 2007

In the winter of 1996, I heard a group of people of varying ages reading poetry aloud, at a Barnes & Noble in Dunwoody.It was a small store(years before the huge B & N would be built at Perimeter Mall). I thought they were great. And brave.All were extremely talented with words.
One fellow was distinct in his look.
He had unruly hair, and wore layers of clothes, even when it was warm. He wore several watches on his wrist, and occasionally smoked a pipe.His name was Dwight E. Humphries, and he encouraged me to write...
I was honored to eventually(1997) become part of this rogue group of poets--"The Usual Suspects" as we were branded by our leader, Thomas Fuller.
October 13th, 2001, Dwight E. Humphries passed away; he died from complications of pneumonia, after beating lung cancer--a sad irony that would Dwight himself would find darkly amusing...
Dwight was an eccentric, high-energy gentleman.A Vietnam Veteran who became a pacifist.A poet who knew how to parachute.
Here are the last lines of a rather famous Dwight E. Humphries' poem, entitled:
Chu Lai
Quang Tin Province


And there is a candle
In the bullet-crossed darkness:
It is me, my mind, my heart.
It burns low, wavers
In a wind old as war
And goes out...

RIP, Dwight.

3 comments:

Collin said...

A very thoughtful post, Lisa.

Lisa Allender said...

Thanks, Coll. It's strange--remembering people who impacted one's life, more than they could ever know.

Misodiva Knits said...

I just found a bunch of poems Dwight wrote and photocopied for me. So I googled his name and then found out he had passed away. He was a such a good poet. Sad.