"To linger a while. In peace. That's all I've wanted." -Winterkill

Such a simple desire is the apotheosis of highly acclaimed poet and Dartmouth professor Sydney Lea, who read with the Powow River Poets at the Newburyport Art Association on Wednesday, March 23.

Lea's commanding voice, articulating his verses in a manner reminiscent of James Earle Jones, reverberated off the bright and diverse artwork of grade-school children currently on display at the Art Association's meeting space and gallery. On hand were eight members of the Powow River Poets along with a dozen other poets who participated in the open mike that followed.

Lea, founder and editor of New England Review, has published eight volumes of poetry and was the co-winner of the Poet's Prize for "To the Bone: New and Selected Poems" as well as a Pulitzer Prize finalist for his seventh publication, "Pursuit of a Wound." Among the selected poems that Lea recited, three were from his most recent publication, "Ghost Pain," a compilation of contemporary themes of identity, addiction, fear of failure and the uncertainty of the age. The title poem is dedicated to an old friend:

"The hour was all about tribute, memory, loss:

we'd each bought a bulb for the tree;

we screwed them into waiting sockets on boughs,

light for parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts,

lost children, and friends. Ghost pain."

In an era of ongoing war and unprejudiced cancers, child abductions and infidelity, one never can be sure of the permanence of love and friendship. This type of ghost pain is the loss of loss, the lament of the lamentation itself, the helplessness of being left behind in a world that is unforgiving and unkind. Yet Lea uses the contrast between the bitter driving gales outside and the glowing warm hearth on the inside and the bond between family that can only strengthen in New England winters.

"Winter Holding Onto Winter" describes how spring must struggle to green the landscape through patches of melting ice, the earth slowly letting go of its frigid cover: "And I have never played at wisdom. All I do is cling to what I've seen and clung to. This green spring roars more with threat than promise, then."

"Hole" speaks of despair, desolation, depression from the aftermath of addiction. One line limns perfectly the point of absolute surrender: "We found the bottom of stupid and dug us a hole." Both comical and sadly true, this bottom is at least the beginning of hope for the addicts he draws in this confessional. Hope arises from this pit in the last stanza:

"Down in the pit. Down in the bottom of stupid.

'Someone, I don't know what it could be...or

something,'

he claims-'Something could hear me cry.'"

His accurate portrayal of the life of a convicted addict and the ingenuity they concoct to feed their addiction reads like a version of confession.

The confessions of the other poets there that night were both candid and amusing, especially Bill Coyle's "Dog Sitting," in which he wishes that dogs weren't illiterate so that they could at least pass the times waiting in front of stores with a good book. The image of a terrier with a paperback brought joy to us all. Rhina Espaillat chose not to read from her own repertoire, but rather read a sort of eulogy to a recently departed friend, written by the friend's husband, entitled "Travelers for Anita," which engaged the audience in an appreciation of her life and love of travel. Its conclusion mirrors Sydney Lea's existential quest: "We are all that we contain."

Join the Powow River Poets for the next monthly reading on April 20 at 7:30 p.m. at the Newburyport Art Association or visit www.newburyportart.org for information on more local literary events.