In the Black church, when a member
stands to testify to tell of their experience in the world,
from the congregation, you will often hear someone shout,
"make it plain."
This is an encouragement of sorts, telling the member
to speak their mind but be straightforward and honest.
What comes from this disarming, verbal,
nakedness is a directness that can
be captivating and affecting but always profound.
In his poem "Unwritten Letters," Steve
writes of the inevitability of brotherhood and friendship
and time.
He makes it plain by saying, "years later I think our lives
change ceaselessly--
how much older we have grown.
If I write this letter, this is how you'll remember me--
the curtains shut, the sun going down, the cells of my body
stopped.
I must have been thinking of you--
of all we've said and left unsaid, of all the things
we meant to do.
There is nothing that I'm meant to say."
This is the poetry of a man born in Holyoke, Massachusetts,
the author of five collections of poetry,
recipient of awards from the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial
Foundation, and the National Endowment for the Arts,
as well as the George Dillon Memorial
Award from Poetry Magazine.
Like Steve himself, his poetry is intrusive.
It's tender, alarming.
It is recognizable, and it is trustworthy.
It speaks to past times and the struggles of today.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor
to introduce Steve Orlen.