In the introduction to his 1997 collection Unselected Poems, Philip Levine describes his poems as “workers” and “creatures” who have lives out in the world, but whose fate is ultimately controlled by their maker, the poet. I have to admit, I like this idea. We may work at writing, but ultimately the poems and stories do the work, if we let them. We employ our writing to go out into the world and bring back a check, an award or, more often than not, an idea about how to make them better workers.

Levine’s poems have done a lot of work for him in the years since he published his first collection, On the Edge, in 1963. They have earned him two National Book Critics Circle Awards, an American Book Award, and a Pulitzer Prize, among many other awards and honors. Most recently he was announced as the United States Poet Laureate for 2011-2012.

On the page, Levine’s poems do a lot of work for him as well. Often without stanza break, and typically with lines of uniform length, the poems barrel along from beginning to end, making discoveries that feel genuinely born from the poem. Levine never seems to write to make a point, but to discover something about the world around him through the act of writing poetry.

Though they may not push the boundaries of form, Levine’s poems have pushed ideas of what is worthy of being written about. In “Making Soda Pop” from Unselected Poems he tells the story of one lunchtime “on the loading docks / at Mavis-Nu-Icy Bottling,” when his coworker, Eddie, got into a fight after “The big driver said / he only fucked Jews. […]” This poem embodies the roughness and plainspokenness of factory workers, yet remains poetry.

Levine’s poems are tough and unpretentious, manly but with a certain tenderness, as in “Having Been Asked ‘What is a Man?’ I Answer” (One for the Rose, 1981):

I am merely a man dressing in the dark

because that is what a man is—

so many mouthfuls of laughter

and so many more, all there can be

behind the sad brown backs of peonies.

Levine plumbs the depths of memory, exploring everything from the grief to the simple pleasures of his working class background.

In the last week, since I heard Levine had been announced as the new Poet Laureate, I’ve dived into his work as deeply as I could, reading whatever collections I could get my hands on. I’ve never explored so quickly and broadly one writer’s body of work, but I would definitely do so again. Poet Laureate, according to the Library of Congress website, “serves as the nation’s official lightning rod for the poetic impulse of Americans.” Levine is certainly that. Detroit born, he resides in California now and has consistently written thoughtful, straightforward poems about daily life in the U.S.

What do you think of Philip Levine’s appointment as Poet Laureate? If you haven’t already, does his appointment mean you will read his poetry?

Author’s note: the collections of Levine’s poetry I managed to find on short notice—from friends and the library—were One for the Rose (1981), New Selected Poems (1991), Unselected Poems (1997), and Breath (2004). Other suggested reading includes What Work Is (1991) which won the National Book Award, Ashes: New Poems and Old (1979) and 7 Years From Somewhere which both won the National Book Critics Circle Award and The Simple Truth (1994) which won the Pulitzer Prize. See Levine’s page on Poets.org for a short biography, complete bibliography and sample poems.