Valentine’s Day seemed like a great time to finally catch up with the folks at Poets House, which has had its share of downs and ups since the pandemic but now is on solid footing. The organization was founded 1985, and for its first two-plus decades was installed at 72 Spring; the collection was moved to Battery Park City in 2009.

The pandemic hit the organization hard, and they were forced to close for a time. And just as things were coming back to life, they had a disastrous flood, requiring a complete remodel. The doors opened again last January, and I can’t believe it took me more than a year to finally discover the place. It’s incredible, and a great spot to work or — radical notion — sit and read a book.

The poet Rob Arnold, Poets House executive director, filled me in on the organization and his favorite parts of the collection.

Walk me through the past few years.
Poet’s House is a usable space — the fundraisers were tied to in-person experiences — for example the annual Poetry Walk over the Brooklyn Bridge, where we walk between City Hall Plaza and Brooklyn Bridge Park. [The walk includes readings from Walt Whitman, Marianne Moore, Langston Hughes and other historic poetic luminaries who have paid tribute to New York City.] Those experiences suddenly became not options — rental income of our space was not an option, we started running out of money and had to close down.

Then in August 2021 we had a big flood. No one was home in the units above us and no one was in the office, so all the fail-safes didn’t kick in — the leak kept going for 48 hours. It ruined floors, ceilings, electrical systems, the elevator.

The books themselves were largely spared, but to avoid mold, each and every single book had to be wiped down. We have 80,000 books of poetry, so the remediation was extremely expensive.

We took the opportunity to expand the shelving, apply better engineering and resiliency work so we would not be caught again. [They removed all the ceiling tiles so drips can be spotted early at the source.] And we created two new spaces: a special collections room to showcase rare objects and a reading room on the southside that houses the Chap Book Collection — the novellas of poetry: small run, often handmade, fragile objects.

Who uses Poet’s House?
It’s a real mix. We host field trips of school-age children from the city and really around the world. I became a poet because a poet came to my high school and I was transfixed — that put a bug in my brain. I think of that always when we host students.

We are also open to the public six days a week — anybody can come in and use the space in any way they would like, just like a library. We have poets working on books, neighbors looking for a respite, students coming in for a quiet place to do their homework. It’s a very peaceful space — it’s a sanctuary.

There has been a lot of poetry written at these tables. And of course we also have researchers, since we hold the most comprehensive collection of American poetry.

What’s going on lately?
We just wrapped up our annual showcase that exhibits all the books of poetry published in 2022 and 2023. We are planning a wonderful summer series of music and poetry events in Rockefeller Park and Wagner Park. In April, we are staring a six-event series called Passwords where a poet will discuss another poet who had a big impact on them. We also have a lot of workshops that teach the craft of poetry for all ages — some have fees, but just ask if you need a scholarship. Don’t need to prove anything.

What’s your favorite item in the library?
One thing that is a complete delight and totally unexpected: We have the writing desk that belonged to e.e. cummings and we installed it with two of his paintings. Everything we have was donated to be used — by the community, for the community. Our ethos is one of openness and use.

The second one is personal to me and maybe not so interesting to readers. I went to college in Seattle and was just starting to learn what contemporary poetry was when I found a magazine called “Ploughshares.” I read it cover to cover and became a fan, so when it was time for grad school, I went to Emerson College where “Ploughshares” was published. My first literary job was managing editor there. Fast forward, our journal collection happens to be right outside my office, and the “Ploughshares” shelf is right outside. Completely coincidental that the Ps landed two steps outside my door — so I can see my career full circle.

Do you see the connection between Poets House and Valentine’s Day? Or is that cliche?
I think of any book of poetry as a gift — a reaching out from one person to another. If we have 80,000 of those, think of all the different hearts reaching out to other hearts.

So it’s really hard not to connect poetry with Valentine’s Day. (I think we a Poetry Lover sticker or bookmark around here somewhere.) It’s also an opportunity. There’s the expression of romantic love of course, and there’s also just the opportunity for human connection. Even a poem about grief and mourning is an act of love. If you read something like that, and you feel a connection, you know you are not alone. It’s a joining of two human experiences.

Isn’t poetry hard to understand?
Some people are afraid of poetry because it’s a different use of language, but I don’t think of it that way. We all reach to poetry at intense moments of life; it’s a state of language. Post 9/11, for example, we found a lot of people reaching out to find meaning. People also reach out in moments of great world joy — those still happen now and then.

Poetry is also one of the most digestible art forms. You can read it though three of four times and let it wash over you and let the meaning slowly come to you.

What do you think poetry does for people?
I feel like the poetry proselytizer. Poetry can change lives. I know it changed mine. I started life as a foster child. I grew up in a military family, where we moved around a lot, and I didn’t have a real sense of stability. I also grew up in a house full of non-readers. Finding books was the first major turning point for me and then finding out I could write — it gave me a sense of control. If you learn to tell your story, you can change your story. Reading also lets us see different models of living — and gives you a chance to shape your own life, and imagine a different pathway for yourself. It led me to college, and led me to taking risks that I wouldn’t have if the art hadn’t empowered me.

Do you have a favorite spot at Poets House?
If you stand at the top of the stairs there’s an overlook area, and at certain times of day, the words from the sign outside come in as shadows into the space. It paints the walls with language.

The reading room is also so beautiful, especially at sunset. You see the life of the city going by and the river beyond it. It feels magical, and it feels like a version of New York City that you don’t get anywhere else. Poet’s House is on land that used to be river — that’s really compelling. And this neighborhood has had such trauma. That we have a temple devoted to meaning that close to that psychic scar is really powerful.