Bland! Please don't think poetry is always like this!
This is my poetry nightmare. It feels more like an overdose of sleeping pills than a dynamic encounter with art. All the readers--even the normally fabulous B.D. Wong--whisper the poems as if they were sacred text, rather than living words.This sort of thing drives people away from poetry.The first 6 1/2 minutes, during which Caroline Kennedy drones on in a monotone are the worst. Uncle Teddy is better, but he can't sustain his energy for the long "Paul Revere's Ride."