Like Whitman, he contains multitudes. There are poems (and interviews) where he says things I admire and love to hear, and others where he’s obdurate and rejectionist.

Neruda loved Stalin until the end, and Pound, Mussolini; Darwish at his worst is no worse than either, and at his best, he’s truly remarkable. Worth knowing in all of those moods, or most of them, anyway.

(His favorite American poem? Ginsberg’s “Kaddish,” at least according to one interview. Fascinating.)

To clarify: when I wrote that I appreciated Darwish’s poetry, I didn’t mean to imply I agreed with his political stances. (I don’t) But do appreciate that he gave me an important and eloquent entry point into the Palestinian experience.

I do believe that an important part of cultural connection and eventual (dare I suggest it?) reconciliation is the ability to understand the point of view of the other, even when (or especially when) that other happens to be my enemy.

I’m still reading, and there may be poems I’ve missed or moments that change this impression, but it certainly struck me as a limitation in his work, and in the vision behind it.

I could cite plenty of comparable limitations in other great poets, so this isn’t by any means to damn or reject Darwish outright. But I’m not sure that his stature as a poet or even the beauty of his work equates to a political vision we can easily embrace, or a “place of connection” we’d all agree to inhabit.

Glad to be reading you again, Brant!