In the age of Pokemon GO, 17-year-old Joey Reisberg’s great hero is a reclusive 19th-century poet who preferred writing letters to conversation.
That’s right, Joey is just gaga for the lady named Emily Dickinson.
That’s because the Stevenson teenager is also a poet, good enough to be selected as one of five young writers recently inducted into the National Students Poets Program.
“I like Dickinson because of her strange, startling poems, which I like to think of as little puzzles,” says Joey, a junior at the George Washington Carver Center for Arts and Technology and a contributor to the school’s literary magazine, Synergy.
“They’re so simple at a glance, but reveal dizzying depths when delved into more deeply,” he says. “Her poems are full of wonder and beauty, and are comforting like old friends when re-read on a rainy day.”
The nation’s highest honor for young poets, the NSPP competition is part of the President’s Committee on the Arts and the Humanities. The distinction included a reception at the White House — “You really feel the weight of history there,” says Joey without a trace of irony — hosted by first lady Michelle Obama.
“It was surreal, but she made us feel safe and comfortable,” he says.
At the White House, Joey and the other honorees discussed the writing life with speechwriters for Obama, a first lady perhaps best known for her commitment to combating childhood obesity. That she is also passionate about the written word is especially heartening to Joey.
“It’s so encouraging to have a first lady who truly cares about the arts and the humanities, especially in a world where we’re increasingly told you have to go into math and science to get a good job,” says Joey, noting that attending a high school focused on the arts makes it easier to imagine living the writer’s life as an adult.
Resilience and Chutzpah
Out of tens of thousands of submissions nationwide, Joey’s portfolio made the first NSPP cut, a whittling that left 35 semifinalists. A panel of judges working in the arts and humanities then selected five national winners, with Joey representing the country’s northeast corridor.
Greater Baltimore — where Joey graduated from Krieger Schechter Day School before finding a home at Carver — animates many of the poems that he has written since scribbling his first in the second grade.
“Baltimore is definitely an inspiration for my work,” he says. “Any city that has harbored Edgar Allan Poe, Lucille Clifton, Adrienne Rich and Frank O’Hara has to have some poetry in the air.
“I’m a big fan of John Waters and Divine and the unique and shocking way they characterized the city. Baltimore has lots of resilience.”
Resilience — buckets of it, along with talent and chutzpah — is what a young writer needs in a world that has always cared more for lucre than lyricism.
“I realize the unlikelihood of making any money by just writing poems. The tricky part is making sure [aspiring artists] understand reality without also crushing hopes and dreams,” says Joey, with the wisdom of an old soul.
“I’ve been fortunate enough to have parents who understand that creativity and imagination are important life skills,” he says. “I plan on supporting myself by teaching English because I love seeing people learn to enjoy literature as something vivid and alive.”
At the White House, Joey read his poem titled, “The Muses in a Rented Room in New Orleans.” In part, it reads:
“Erato wastes reams of paper on her stunted sonnets to the man
sitting outside, straining soupy notes out of a trombone.
Calliope’s voice can barely be heard over the racket,
but she is there too, whispering this poem into my ear.”
As they are wont to do, the muses selected Joey Reisberg early on, one of the chosen to whom they whisper the raw material that mortals use to make art for the succor of others.
Here’s hoping that they never stop.
Rafael Alvarez is a Baltimore-based freelance writer.
