“Gathering the girth of my phoenix city
breadths and lengths convey themselves on
the concrete path with wheels, feet, blades.”
And with those lines, Lee Butler began her weekly poetic tribute to the people, and occasionally the things, she encounters on the Atlanta Beltline. Every Saturday from 1 to 3 p.m. on the North Avenue entrance (next to the Kroger), the self-proclaimed “Bardess of the Beltline” recites a new poem that she has penned to anyone who will take a few minutes to stop and listen. As a show of appreciation, Butler gives the listener a copy of her latest ode — and printed on really fine paper at that. If you don’t stop, you are out of luck. Poems are meant to be heard, says the retired DeKalb County English teacher, who has no intention of publishing her growing collection of poems called “Belt Lines,” which now number 47. “This is my gift to Atlanta,” Butler says, “and the people of Atlanta.”
Q: What is so interesting about the Beltline?
A: There are no "isms" on the Beltline. No sexism, no racism, no classism, no age-ism. Everyone is just part of it, from the little kids to the old people, the polite people to the not so nice people. I have only had two negatives the whole time. I had this guy on a bike who actually turned around to give me the finger.
Q: What did you do?
A: I wrote a poem about him. "What was an affront to you? Did the timbre of my voice or my comment that everyone has the 'soul of a poet' remind you of an offense you were unable to address?" ("Belt Lines No. 8")
Q: How long have you been writing poetry and how would you describe your style?
A: I've been writing poetry since I was 12. When I first started doing this project on the Beltline, a young man said, "You are like Allen Ginsberg." I said, "Oh no, I am definitely not howling and I don't use obscenity." I had another gal tell me I was like Emily Dickinson, whom I revere. Each of my poems is numbered and Emily's poems were all numbered. I don't write political poems and my stuff is not sweet sadness. I think humor can be as effective as sweet sadness.
Q: Isn’t it a chore to write a new poem each week?
A: It never feels like a chore. Everyone I meet on the Beltline, even if it is for a minute and a half, has a story. There are a lot of people who never get noticed. That is my duty, in a way, or I feel like it is. I have written a poem about a homeless man I met that I will be reciting on Oct. 24.
Q: How many listeners do you get on a given Saturday?
A: The most I have ever had is 48. I have 10 regulars. I have people who say, "I'm going to come back," but they never do. I wrote a poem about the people who don't stop. "Many of you give thumbs up, some smile. Few, a bob of the head. Frequently, elucidators, 'Can't stop.' I understand Alice's Rabbit, 'Late.'" (From "Belt Lines No. 20")
Q: People have to stop and listen to get a copy, correct?
A: Yes, people have to interrupt their cycling, running or walking. Some people say, "You need to do a blog." The thing that bothers me about the modern technological world is there is not enough eye contact.
Q: So I have to come hear you every week to get the entire collection?
A: That is true. Or you could make arrangements with one of your friends to come. The person who has the most is a guy named Frank, who is from Argentina. Come rain or shine, Frank is there.
Q: How long are you going to keep this up?
A: Shakespeare wrote 154 sonnets so I'm going beat him out and write 155 poems. His sonnets were all about love. I love Atlanta.
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