Notes from the Hatch: The Year of Poetry

Sunday, January 28, 2024

The interior of an antique furniture shop run by a Mr C. Box, c. 1900 (via Getty)

Hi friends,

On New Year’s Eve, I was sitting in a sauna with my friends and neighbors—they built one in their backyard a few years ago—and were talking through “The Five Lists.” It was below freezing outside, and periodically, when the heat became unbearable, we’d step out into the snow and continue our conversation, steam billowing off of us in such quantities it made it hard to see each other.

It was my turn to answer the question, “What did this year leave you yearning for?” I breathlessly outlined so many things I wanted to read and learn and accomplish. When I finished, my friend Garth gently suggested that it’s nice, sometimes, to pick a word of the year instead of setting concrete goals. So instead of saying, “I want to accomplish X and Y,” you might say, “This is the year of X and Y.” It’s an invitation, a gentle declaration that you can lean into as much—or as little—as life allows. 

The next week I told my friend

Carmen Radley

that I wanted 2024 to be the Year of Poetry. I didn’t grow up with poetry and didn’t study it much in school (despite having two writing degrees), but over the course of my time at the Isolation Journals, I’ve been awed again and again by the poems we read here. Carmen—love you, Carmen—jumped right to it. And the poem I want to share with you today is the very first one she sent me.