Author Jim Harrison and a life told through poetry

Jim Harrison once told me that I was reading poetry all wrong. He told me not to read a book of poetry in one setting, but rather to “read a poem a day,” and then think about it. At that rate, I should be able to work through his new gargantuan poetry book, “Jim Harrison: Complete Poems,” in about three years. 

The new collection of Harrison’s monumental work as a poet weighs in at over three pounds, with 931 pages, not including notes and citations. The book consists of all his published poems, which he penned over a 50-year writing career. His collection called “Last Poems,” written between the publication of his last poem collection, “Dead Man’s Float,” and his death in 2016.

During his career, Harrison wrote more than 50 books, with 14 poetry books, 21 fictional books, a memoir, two non-fiction books of essays and a children’s book. Three of his works, “Revenge,” “Wolf” and “Legends of the Fall” were made into movies. He wrote scads of articles for the magazines and journals, including a wine newsletter and Esquire magazine. His poetry soared when writing about wine, food and the natural world. 

Harrison grew up in Haslett, where he attended the public school before heading to Michigan State. There, he received two degrees. Harrison lived in Michigan most of his life before moving first to Montana with a summer place in Patagonia, Arizona. His poetry is filled with references to some of his favorite places, like Dick’s Pour House in Leelanau. 

“Genius can appear anywhere,” said Joseph Bednarik, Harrison’s longtime editor at Copper Canyon Press. Bednarik shepherded this daunting project through publication.

It seems providential that Harrison died while writing a poem, his pen in hand, so it is fitting that the only art in the book is a photograph of his last uncompleted poem.  The untitled poem shows Harrison’s once-perfect penmanship deteriorating line by line. The chilling last line reads, “Man shits his pants and trashed God’s body,” penned as if he knew he was about to take his last breath. 

Frankly, reading a 900 plus-page collection of poetry can be daunting, while also being transformative. So where to start. Here’s what I did: After reading the editor’s note and an almost-perfect personal introduction by author Terry Tempest Williams (she recalls how Harrison read an unread manuscript of hers after rifling her underwear drawer), I opened the book at random and read snippets from poems. 

For example, the poem “Ghosts” caught my eye with these telling first lines, “Friends are helping me on my slow path to the grave. Three Beat me there last summer. Matthiessen, Bowden and Torrey.” Some of the poems are funny, some are serious, and many are bawdy, but none will disappoint a reader.

Leafing through the collection, I came across the poem “Rooster,” which begins, “Have to kill the rooster tomorrow. He’s being an asshole.” Next, my eyes caught the poem “Larson’s Holstein’s Bull,” with which I am quite familiar. With Harrison’s permission, I used the oft-quoted line “Death steals everything but our stories” for my mother’s eulogy.

I found this hit-or-miss approach fun. I’m sure Harrison would’ve approved. It also got me thinking that excerpts from his poetry could be a counterpoint to those inspirational ditties with high ideals you find painted on cheap particle board in gift shops. I could see “You’ve had your orange, now lie in it” from the poem “Trader” tacked up in dens. 

Bednarek said before the general publication of “Jim Harrison: Complete Poems,” a special three-volume boxed set with a limited edition of 750 poems was offered for $500. It immediately sold out. Bednarek said one of the goals for this massive collection is to attract new and younger poetry readers to fill the legions of Harrison fans who are “aging out.”

““The Complete Poems” is a huge statement and a landmark book,” Bednarek said. “Jim started as a poet and as he aged, his poetry style became more informal in a story-telling style.”

St. John resident Jim “Bud” Schulz, who has known Harrison since the late 1960s, agrees. 

“It’s the simpleness of his poetry,” he said. “He can take an unbelievable, complex topic, and explain it in poetry in a simple manner.”

Schulz was one of the chosen few who would periodically get faxes from Harrison containing a new, unpublished poem.  

“I’ve never met a writer who had such a curiosity about his fellow humans. One of his books, “Sundog” started with a conversation in a bar,” Bednarik said. “Our goal at Copper Canyon Press is to find new readers for Jim’s work. We are very interested in finding future readers.”