Dean Kostos

I read that Dean Kostos died a few weeks ago. He was a poet and memoirist, exceedingly sensitive and humane.

I never met him. I did know him, though, briefly. I worked with him by phone and e-mail on his memoir, some thirteen or fourteen years ago. The poet Molly Peacock put us together. I write memoir, and she thought I might be able to help him with his project. His memoir is remarkable, but I’m afraid I didn’t contribute that much. I did value our time together, and it was a privilege to work on his book, called The Boy Who Listened to Paintings, which is agonizing, full of pain and hurt. His account of being bullied at school is the most visceral, the most harrowing I’ve ever read. If you want to know what Tennessee Williams meant by the sin of “deliberate cruelty,” read “The Plan,” Chapter 9, of his memoir.

But the joke is on those sadists. Dean Kostos grew up to be a fine, award-winning poet. He said this about poetry in an interview, “For me, poetry is using words to say what words can’t say.” You can read, and listen to Dean Kostos read from his work, here.

There will be a memorial reading of his poems on December 17 at 4pm via Zoom. A number of poets and writers, including Molly Peacock, will read from Dean’s work.

He was just 68 when he died from a heart attack.