Dr. Dan Rosenberg, Tompkins County’s newly appointed poet laureate, is an established voice in contemporary poetry. The author of Bassinet, Thigh’s Hollow, cadabra, and The Crushing Organ, Rosenberg is also a lecturer at Cornell University.
In a recent conversation, Rosenberg spoke candidly with host Aurora Berry about his journey with poetry and his deep connection to the natural world around him.
BERRY: Thank you for joining us today, Dan.
ROSENBERG: Thank you for having me, Aurora. It’s a pleasure to be here.
BERRY: To start, could you share one of your poems about Buttermilk Falls here in Tompkins County?
ROSENBERG: Of course. Here’s a poem titled Buttermilk Falls.
We step on barren stones while between
them the cracks teem with small living.
A game we play: Who can leave the world
most undisturbed. The water says be
like water, leave the slowest fingerprint,
but we can barely hear it over the falls.
The pebbles blunt their edges on our heels.
We are sediment. Two accidental statues,
me and my son, poor models for a better man.
What counts as life in the slush and wash around us?
The star moss wept somehow against my ankle,
and I seem now more of this place than I was.
Undivorced from stem and root. Untroubled
as a stalagmite under a generous sun. I bend
beside my son, balance stone upon stone.
The moss remains, luminous and still.
We make a home for it, and it survives.
BERRY: Thank you, that was beautiful.
ROSENBERG: Thank you, Aurora.
BERRY: Your work is deeply connected to the natural world. Can you tell us more about that?
ROSENBERG: I didn’t always consider myself a nature poet. My writing stems more from the imagination, but living here, it’s hard not to be influenced by the natural landscape. I grew up on Long Island with no natural beauty around me. Now, I’m raising my child here, surrounded by gorges and waterfalls. It’s amazing to watch him react to it—while I remain stunned by the beauty, he takes it all in stride because it’s his everyday environment.
BERRY: Was there a moment when you realized the natural world was influencing your poetry?
ROSENBERG: I think it hit me when I was teaching at Wells College. The drive up to the campus, especially when you crest a hill and the lake opens up before you, felt like the whole horizon exhaled. The landscape suddenly felt expansive and breath-taking. It was a revelation for me.
BERRY: And how do you tap into the beauty of the natural world, especially during times when the weather isn’t so perfect?
ROSENBERG: There’s still beauty in winter. For instance, I recently walked by Cascadilla Falls on my way home from campus. It was a waterfall flowing beneath the ice, and despite the muddy, slushy path, there’s still a kind of majesty in that. Not every part of nature has to be pristine—sometimes the messiness is just as meaningful.
BERRY: Outside of nature, what else is influencing your work right now?
ROSENBERG: Lately, the theme of fatherhood and masculinity has become central in my work. As a father, I’m thinking about how to model a positive, non-toxic way of being a man for my son. There’s so much focus in our culture on what boys shouldn’t do, but I’m more interested in showing them what they can do: how to be caring, nurturing, and non-violent. These themes have been creeping into my poetry lately.
BERRY: Thank you so much for sharing these insights with us, Dan.
ROSENBERG: It was my pleasure, Aurora. Thanks for having me.
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