Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer - Poetry Craft Tips

Poetry Workshop: 010

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 23:23:03 GMT

One reliable test for checking out the effectiveness of a poem is to read the poem out loud. Even if you never plan on reading the poem in public, it's a good exercise to find stumbling points in a poem. In fact, an even better exercise is to have other people read your poem to see if they stumble in certain spots. I'm telling you this, because this week's workshopped poem is one I felt compelled to read out loud from the first line.

Here it is:

Surrogate, by Kisha Hughes

To be a godmother means to hold the baby and shut your mouth.
The job is kind of morbid--it doesn't become official until death takes everyone else.
In the meantime, I smile and appear at family functions.
It takes my godson a few hours before he remembers that I'm OK,
that I'm family--although I look nothing like his mother and father.
He rubs my face to see if the color comes off on his tiny hands,
to see if I'm just dirty although he doesn't know the word.
He grabs my lips and wonders at their fullness.
He pulls my hair and thinks of lambs.
Bah, bah black sheep.
is this what they call wool?
I have to wonder if this is what he'll think;
if one day I'll have to answer the question, "Why are you brown"
or "How are you mommy's sister if you're black?"
Not hard questions to answer, but will he understand?
Will he look at me like his father does.
will he wonder why I'm here?
Wonder why this black bitch is holding and cuddling and loving
his son like he does?
These looks hold me back, but my friend, his mother,
Her looks hold me there.
The smile in her eyes when she sees him surrender to sleep on my breast:
the giggle in her voice when she muses on how he's always been
comforted by me.
It is also the memory of holding him until my arms went numb
and my back tied itself into knots like a boy scout manipulating a rope.
It is the memory of the first time he smile at me,
The memory of dancing him around the kitchen while he sucked my thumb.
The hardest part of being a godmother is not holding the child, but holding my tongue.

*****

I really love that opening line: To be a godmother means to hold the baby and shut your mouth. And I really love the closing: The hardest part of being a godmother is not holding the child, but holding my tongue. Plus, there's a lot of really great material in between, but how do we get the most effective poem possible between the awesome beginning and closing?

First, we need to figure out what is essential to this poem. The opening and closing lines are soooooooo good that I really think that's where the strength of this poem lies.

That said, I think this poem really needs to focus on the content that underscores the godmother's dilemma of holding (or not holding) the baby but also holding her own tongue. Since there is an obvious tension between the narrator and her brother-in-law, this relationship should probably be the focal point of that middle part of the poem between the beginning and the end.

In fact, I'd recommend making the middle of the poem a scene or encounter where the narrator has to hold her tongue, even though the reader of the poem would totally support her giving the brother-in-law an earful. Maybe she's even on the verge of cussing him out when the godson grabs her hand, looks up into her eyes and smiles--forcing her to remain quiet.

Plus, I also recommend breaking the lines slightly different to make them a little more punchy.

Here's kind of what I'd envision a 2nd draft looking like:

Surrogate, by Kisha Hughes

To be a godmother means to hold the baby
and shut your mouth. The job is morbid with nothing
official until death takes everyone else.
Like my brother-in-law, who...

(...description of a scene or encounter in which the brother-in-law does or says something bad, or he does a series of bad things that drive the narrator to her boiling point when...)

I feel a tiny hand grip my fingers; I look down to see
my godson looking up at me, a smile on his face, full
of love. The hardest part of being a godmother
is not holding the child, but holding my tongue.

*****

Of course, I'm sure Kisha can phrase that better than me, but I just wanted to give an idea of what I think would serve this poem best.

There's a lot of great material in here that will have to be cut to service this poem. That's the price of writing a great poem, and I believe this could be a great poem. Any excised material can always be used in other poems.

One last thought: I would give the godson a name. That way you can refer to him by an actual name, which will make him more real for the reader. Maybe give him a name loaded with meanings, which will make it more fun for your more sophisticated readers.

So here are the recommendations on this poem:

Keep the opening line
Keep the closing line
Connect the two lines with a scene or exchange that shows the truth in those lines
Break the lines for more effect
Give the godson a name
Have fun with the revision process

*****

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Poetry Workshop: 009

Thu, 01 Oct 2009 14:40:44 GMT

Today is the first day of October, and we're more than a week into autumn now. So, I think it's appropriate that we look at a poem from the season that has just passed: summer. From Alberta, Canada, Kathy Larson has provided us with "Summer School."

Here's the original draft:

Summer School, by Kathy Larson

They file in each morning slack-faced,
Sleep still in their hair, and on their cheeks;
It falls in dusty crustlings from their eyelashes.
They barely acknowledge my cheery 'good mornings'.
Sometimes, a mumbled "lo', but no eye contact.

That's okay, though, I get it.

It's summer, and they're IN SCHOOL.
I feel sorry for them; wish they were still in bed,
To wake hours from now tangled in sweaty sheets.
Rising, like the undead,
In rooms filled with the fumes of their fetid mouth breathings,
Their hair plastered in greasy strings across shiny foreheads,
Pawing blindly, dumbly for the one thing with power enough
To move their leaden limbs - the shrill, siren call of a cell phone.

Believe me,
I am sincere in my wishes.
Far too soon the realities of life will prohibit
Any chance of sleeping in through lazy summer days,
Being surly, smelly and obnoxious.
Serious relationships, jobs, rent to pay, a car to finance,
Perhaps the ball and chain of tuition will take car of that.
In that not-too-distant-future,
They will rise programmed to face each day
With smiles and enthusiasm,
Driven by necessity, not desire.
Right now, a little slack is all they need.

Far too soon, they'll be me.

*****

First off, I love the idea of looking at summer school. And I love the idea of taking it from the teacher's perspective. For me, though, there's not a point in the poem as it currently stands where something sticks with me. That said, I think Kathy has plenty of options for her next draft.

Option 1: Make the poem more personal. This poem is written in the 1st person, so it would make sense for the narrator to explain why summer school is so important to her. Sure, this narrator talks about how she empathizes with the students, but we don't get a picture of how that relates to the narrator. Was she a summer school student? Did she not take things seriously? Let the reader know why it's so important to the narrator to share her views on summer school.

Option 2: Make it funny. Perhaps, you want to lighten the mood on summer school. You can do this by highlighting the ridiculous nature of summer school--perhaps with the intent of saying, "Cut them some slack." Maybe even make it rhyme.

Option 3: Make it specific. Instead of focusing on the whole big idea of summer school and all of the students, focus on a specific exchange between the teacher and a student or between two students (perhaps overheard by the teacher). Don't focus on the BIG idea, because that only muddies the waters for readers; specificity in small scenes can grab readers so much easier and allows them to come at it with their own lens.

Option 4: Do all of the above. Suddenly, this feels like one of those multiple choice tests where students can circle their answers. But seriously, one option is to make the poem more personal, funny, and specific.

Anyway, that's my take on the poem. If you agree or disagree or have other comments to make on Kathy's poem, feel encouraged to comment below.

I believe this poem has a lot of potential, Kathy. Thank you so much for sharing with the group!

*****

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Poetry Workshop: 008

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 13:23:44 GMT

I'm one of those writers who is always coming up with these great ideas and concepts for poems and short stories. Where I usually fall short is making sure that I follow through on that idea or concept to write the best poem or short story I can. It's almost like the idea is so great that I can't deliver on the promise of the title. That's probably why many of my "great idea" poems don't get published while my unassuming pieces do.

Sharon Cameo Franz has shared a very great idea with her poem "The Delicious Man" in this week's workshop. Here it is:

The Delicious Man, by Sharon Cameo Franz

Like a French croissant;
Smooth as butter and flaky.
That was this delicious man.

Myself, pretty as a pink birthday cake.

Fancy and sweet was I.

That was this delicious woman.

As the wise ones know:

Timing is everything.

By now I had my fill of crumbs!

So I chewed him up,

And spat him out.

Delicious!

*****

To tell you the truth (and pardon the pun), I find the idea behind this poem delicious. In fact, the title alone makes me want to read the poem. But then, it's the execution of the idea that I'd like to see more developed (again, I totally have a problem with accomplishing this myself).

Here's the thing: This poem is called "The Delicious Man," so as a reader I'm expecting to hear about the delicious man, not the delicious woman (or you could title it the delicious people). It's okay to throw twists in the road for the reader, but still, there should be much more description of the delicious man. You don't have to describe the blood inside his veins or the shape of his brain, but he deserves more than a two-line simile. And be sure to use specifics in describing the delicious man.

Pet peeve alert: I don't approve of sentences like, "Fancy and sweet was I," unless it's forced for a rhyme. Even then, I'm not a fan, but I can at least understand why it was flipped from "I was fancy and sweet."

Also, I'd recommend taking out references to the delicious woman. It's okay to have the poem narrated by a woman, but the delicious woman can be an entirely different poem called, "The Delicious Woman." For the purposes of this poem, keep the focus on the delicious man. There's no need for a battle over who is more delicious (at least in this poem); you can have the two duke it out in your poem called, "The Delicious Battle."

Finally, I don't think spitting out the delicious man works. After all, he's freaking delicious. There are two options I'd suggest here:

Have the narrator swallow him whole. In this scenario, the narrator finds the delicious man so savory that she can't even enjoy him; she just swallows him whole.
Have the narrator pass on him. In this scenario, the narrator has had her fill of sweets (or she's watching her figure). Even though he looks so incredibly delectable, she feels she has to pass on his deliciousness.

As you know, I love the idea behind this poem, and I feel it has every opportunity of being a tremendous (and delicious) poem after a little more work. It's already a cute poem, but let's make it completely memorable. After all, you don't want your readers spitting out the delicious idea. (Question: How many times can I use the word delicious in one blog posting? Answer: Apparently at least one more time.)

Here are my bullet point recommendations:

Focus more on the delicious man. We need a little more than he's like a French croissant, though that was a clever simile.
Use specifics to describe the delicious man. What's his hair like? His skin? His odor? (Yes, food does smell--hopefully in a good way.)
Remove the delicious woman. Give her a poem of her own, sure, but this is the delicious man's poem. Feel free to keep the woman narrator, but don't make her delicious. Instead, make her hungry or full.
Don't spit the delicious man out. If he's delicious, it doesn't make sense to spit him out once he's in your mouth. So, either swallow him whole or pass on him (because the narrator is already stuffed or counting calories).

Final thought: I wish I'd thought of this idea, Sharon; it has a lot of potential, and the revision process should be a lot of fun. Thanks for sharing!

*****

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Interview With Poet (and My Wife) Tammy Foster Brewer!

Thu, 03 Sep 2009 18:44:52 GMT

As I mentioned earlier, my wife Tammy's second chapbook, No Glass Allowed, was recently published by verve bath press. Meanwhile, I've resisted the urge to interview Tammy for more than two years now. But the release of a poetry collection is too much for me to pass, especially when the poems are all so good. (Seriously, I loved Tammy's writing even before we started dating. No, really.)

Tammy's writing has been (or will soon be) published in publications such as storySouth, The Pedestal, RATTLE, and others. She received her BA in English at Georgia State University and promptly became a paralegal. She was born, raised and still resides in Atlanta, Georgia--and can be reached via e-mail at tammyfbrewer@gmail.com.

My personal favorite poem in No Glass Allowed is also framed on my desk in my Atlanta office. Here it is:

Sea Gypsies

You said you spent 5 minutes of your life
today looking for a staple remover.
Something to do with your job.
You edit, and sometimes
there is a need to pull things

apart. There are mountains
between us, and then a river.
The land swells with seeds
that fall from your pockets,
sewing the distance with deep
breaths, an entire city
in your smile.

I tell you about the Mokens,
gypsies of the Andaman Sea.
How they knew to flee the tsunami
before the first wave tore trees
from their roots, husbands from wives.
When the sky turns to salt, sometimes
there is a thirst. In their language

there is no word for want,
only an understanding
of give and take. You said
I took away your need
and you want

to share water with me.
The ground presses its pregnant
belly against my feet. I am
distracted by squirrels
in the trees. Wind.
When.

*****

What are you up to?

I've got the windows open and I'm listening to the wind and hoping baby Will stays asleep in his swing. And sipping some water and trying not to eat too many pretzel sticks.

Other than that, I have a new chapbook out from Verve Bath Press!

Within the past year, you changed your name--with earlier work as Tammy Foster Trendle and more recent publications as Tammy Foster Brewer. How have you handled that transition? And have there been any surprises (good or bad) as a result?

That's a good question. Foster is my maiden name. The first time I got married, I struggled with the idea of changing my last name. I was a Foster and I was proud of my family and my name. But, I wanted to have children and I thought it would be easier to change my name. My first poetry publications were under my married name--Tammy F. Trendle. I have a lot of publications (including my first chapbook) under that name.

I got divorced and remarried and didn't have any hesitations this time around about changing my name; however, I think I still published one or two poems under my previous name. Once I started publishing under Brewer, I decided to include in my bio my former name (in parenthesis). I joked that I didn't want anyone to think I was plagiarizing Tammy Trendle.

I don't think the name change has caused any confusion in my writing life; however, it causes lots of confusion for the pediatrician whenever I take Reese (my son from my first marriage) because he always addresses me as Ms. Trendle and then apologizes and calls me Ms. Brewer. It's weird having so many aliases--but a little mysterious, too.

The poems in No Glass Allowed have many great linebreaks. Do you have a linebreak strategy when writing poems?

Yeah, I put a lot of thought into my linebreaks. It helps me to type out my poems on the computer, so that I can see the linebreaks clearly and evenly. I like to break my lines at a thought or an image, so that the idea/image changes meaning from one line to the next. Each word in the line adds to the overall idea/image in that line. I like to have what appears to be a simple sentence broken over a few lines so that the words have multiple meanings. I hope that makes sense.

Do you spend much time on revision?

Oh yes. I recently finalized a poem that I started writing 1.5 years ago. Usually, I get the lines down and then I pour over each word methodically until I finally feel like it's done. I am a perfectionist when it comes to my poetry. Every now and then I'll write a poem that only needs a tweek or two. It's a great feeling when those poems come so easily. (By the way, the poem I just mentioned that took me 1.5 yrs to finalize is going to be published in the upcoming Winter issue of RATTLE.)

Your poetry has appeared in several publications--in addition to your two chapbooks. How do you handle your submission process?

It's funny. I think I go through phases where I write write write and then I submit submit submit. I'm not very organized with my submission process. Fortunately, I've had several instances where editors have contacted me about publishing my poetry. (I always put my e-mail address in my bio which I think helps.) I think I'm just about at a point where I've submitted all of my good stuff and now it's time for me to write more.

Speaking of writing more. Where or how do you tend to find inspiration for your writing?

A lot of times I get inspiration from reading other poets or from looking at pieces of art. Whenever I get stumped or feel like I need inspiration, I'll look at artwork and start writing out ideas that pop in my head. Also, I get a lot of inspiration from listening to other people (especially my kids). Something said in an everyday conversation becomes a line in a poem. Also, driving helps. During my long commute to Atlanta for work, I get ideas just from looking out the window. I'm a daydreamer.

When you're reading other poets, what do you look for in a good poem?

I think a good poem makes me feel. I remember reading "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in high school and getting goosebumps (that's when I knew I was a poetry freak). I like a poem that can take language and twist it on its head. To read something that seems ordinary and simple on the outside but has many layers of meaning beneath. I think a good poem is one that even non-poets enjoy and appreciate.

Who are you reading currently?

I just finished re-reading Jessica Dawson's chapbook, Fossil Fuels (also published by Verve Bath Press). I'm also reading Cheryl Dumesnil's In Praise of Falling. Of course, I always like to read some Bob Hicok. I am a big fan of the small press and small press poets--Pris Campbell, Amanda Oaks, Jacob Johansen, Barton Smock to name a few.

If you could offer only one piece to other poets, what would it be?

Never forget you are a poet.

Final question: Who's your favorite poet named Robert?

You, silly.

*****

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*****

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Poetry Workshop: 007

Thu, 03 Sep 2009 12:40:00 GMT

I did not think I'd have time to do a poetry workshop this week, but I surprised even myself with how much I've accomplished through Wednesday. So, let's get workshopping!

This week's poem comes from Jane Penland Hoover of Durham, North Carolina.

Here's the poem:

On Writing and Love, by Jane Penland Hoover

Always a middle
somewhere to come from
somewhere to go

I imagined I could fall in love
with gardening, if only
I could be close to those
who loved the taste

of green, the feel of bloom
upon some stem.

and so I joined them
the little club
that met each week
in someone's den.

listening and talking
about hydrangeas, seedlings,
sufficient moisture, and
what the sun might do.

But I didn't fall in love
with gardening.

One must get closer
kneel into the damp
earth, reach deep into
its darkened soil

rise up again and again
fingers dripping dirt.

And so it is with writing
still, the smell of ink
bleeding into skin, words
trailing back lead me.

*****

There are some obvious errors with capitalization and punctuation, but this is a pretty good start for the poem. What I really love in this poem is the metaphor Jane uses. Recently, I've been reading an advance copy of Robert Frost Speaking on Campus (due out at the end of September from W.W. Norton), and Frost was very much into metaphor.

In fact, I think there are two good ways to immediately strengthen this poem. One, correct the capitalization and punctuation. Two, strip out anything that does not directly relate to the gardening metaphor.

Here's the second version of Jane's poem after doing those two things:

On Gardening and Love, by Jane Penland Hoover

I imagined I could fall in love
with gardening, if only
I could be close to those
who loved the taste

of green, the feel of bloom
upon some stem.

And so I joined them,
the little club
that met each week
in someone's den.

Listening and talking
about hydrangeas, seedlings,
sufficient moisture, and
what the sun might do.

But I didn't fall in love
with gardening.

One must get closer,
kneel into the damp
earth, reach deep into
its darkened soil,

rise up again and again,
fingers dripping dirt.

*****

Already, this poem is much stronger. It still works as a possible metaphor for writing, but by focusing squarely on gardening, this poem also works as a metaphor for any hobby that someone could love. "Whether you're interested in writing or cooking or whatever," this poem is now saying, "you can't fall in love with something by merely talking about it. You have to actually work at it."

Notice: The only word change I've made so far is to swap the word "gardening" with "writing" in the title. Everything else is in the same order and same voice as used by Jane originally.

Sometimes, it really is as easy as cutting off the beginning and ending of a poem to make it that much stronger. But just because this poem is stronger now, it doesn't mean we're completely finished with it.

The poem may be done now, but I'd advise Jane to play around with trying to add a few more specific details to see how they affect the poem. For instance, I feel that it might be more interesting to have the name of a person instead of "in someone's den." You don't have to use a real name; make one up. This is where you can get into the business of telling the truth but telling it slant (as Emily Dickinson would say).

In the same vein, I'd advise Jane to try playing around with adding specific details and conversation (again, can slant the truth here) about these gardening club meetings. By adding specific details, this poem may become even more interesting. Or it may not. But Jane won't know until she tries incorporating details first.

Regardless, I do like Jane's poem very much and love that she provided such a great example of how metaphor can be used in our poetry.

*****

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*****

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Poetry Workshop: 006

Thu, 20 Aug 2009 15:35:31 GMT

I really look forward to these Poetry Workshops. They've been tremendously helpful for me (and hopefully you), because looking at others' poems reminds me what I should be looking for in my own poems.

This week's poem is "A Lady and That Woman," by Harry Coss. It's one of those poems that already feels good, but there are still some ways for the poem to be improved.

Here's the original version:

A Lady and That Woman, by Harry Coss

I met a lady one autumn afternoon, years ago,
for just long enough to help her with her jacket.
It was in an old tea shop, she entered just behind me.
Noticeable were her white gloves and cautious walk.

She had difficulty taking off her light jacket, leaving,

one arm turned inside out, hanging on a hook.

She sat taking care to not wrinkle her skirt.

Her hair soft curl at her shoulder and high on top.

There was a hint of makeup at her chin line.

Her eyebrows arched. She had the bones

of a beautiful but aging face. Her lipstick

was dark red--her mouth unsmiling.

She sat straight, lost in thought looking

at the small hexagon tiles on the floor.

She sipped her tea slowly, breaking off small bits

of scone with graceful well manicured fingers.

Her dress, close around her waist, a tailored bodice

and shoulders padded in the style of the 1940's.

I thought of young lovers torn apart by war,

sensing her heart may still be living in that era.

Finished, she got up to leave but had difficulty

with her jacket, I rose and helped her, as our eyes met

she brightened and said, with a slight British accent,

"Thank you dear sir." I sensed some expectation.

Her right hand, palm down, was slightly raised.

I thought to take it and say how nice she looked.

In fact, I had a fleeting impulse to kiss it; But I didn't,

I only said, "Your welcome". She hesitated briefly.

She donned her gloves, turned, unsteadily walked

slowly toward the door. I saw her bump

into the wife of a middle-aged couple entering.

apparently unaware of the encounter.

As they were seated she was saying to her husband,

"Did you see that woman who hit me, she reeked

of alcohol, her makeup was awful and her dress

is way out of style, way too young for her."

Every once in a while I recall that lady, remembering

with sorrow, not telling her how nice she looked.

*****

It is a very good poem. I particularly like the 7th stanza. While I like that this poem has a delicate pace to it--like the lady the poem describes--I also feel that this poem could be made even stronger than it currently is by a little tightening.

For instance, the 1st stanza could lose the second line completely, because the poem will actually show the narrator helping the lady with her jacket. Also, the 9th stanza uses the passive voice when it should be active, "...she was saying to her husband..." All of these are slight revisions, but sometimes, it's these small revisions that can make all the difference when someone is reading your poem (or any writing for that matter).

Here's my attempt at tightening this poem:

A Lady and That Woman, by Harry Coss

I met a lady one autumn afternoon, years ago,
in an old tea shop. She entered just behind me.
Her white gloves and cautious walk caught my
attention, and she had difficulty removing her

light jacket, leaving one arm turned inside out
hanging on a hook. She took care to not wrinkle
her skirt. Her hair curled soft at her shoulders and
high on top, a hint of makeup at her chin line.

Eyebrows arched, she had a beautiful but
aging face. Her lipstick was dark red--her mouth
unsmiling. She sat straight, lost in thought looking

at the small hexagon tiles on the floor. She

sipped her tea slowly, breaking off small bits

of scone with graceful, well-manicured fingers.

Her dress, close around her waist, a tailored bodice

and shoulders padded in the style of the 1940's.

I thought of young lovers torn apart by war,

sensing her heart may still be living in that era.

Finished, she got up to leave but had difficulty

with her jacket. I rose and helped her. As our eyes

met she brightened and said, with a slight British
accent, "Thank you, dear sir." I sensed expectation.

Her right hand, palm down, was slightly raised.

I thought to take it and say how nice she looked.

In fact, I had an impulse to kiss it, but I did not;

I only said, "You're welcome." She hesitated briefly,

donned her gloves, turned, and walked unsteadily

toward the door. I saw her bump into the wife

of a middle-aged couple entering. As they sat,
she asked her husband, "Did you see that woman

who hit me? She reeked of alcohol, her makeup
was awful and her dress is way out of style.”

Every once in a while, I recall that lady, regretting

that I did not tell her how nice she looked.

*****

As you'll notice this is still the same poem, still the same voice, still the same tempo. The one thing that has changed is that the poem has 8 quatrains (instead of 9 quatrains) matched up with the closing couplet, which I changed slightly to make a more complete thought.

Since we're reading both versions together, it may be hard to simulate, but the tightness of the 2nd version makes the poem a lot easier read just by cutting down some of the excess.

Here are some of the edits I made:

Deleted the 2nd line of the 1st stanza. As mentioned earlier, why tell what's going to happen later when the poem will actually show it?
Took the passive voice out of the 9th stanza. Whether you're writing poetry or prose, passive voice is usually something to be avoided.
Chose one adverb for the 8th stanza description of the lady walking. The narrator used both "unsteadily" and "slowly," so I chose "unsteadily," because when I think of an unsteady walker, I also think of a slow walker. Using too many adverbs and adjectives can seriously weaken a sentence, whether used in a poem or any other form of writing.
Removed the 4th line of the 8th stanza. The reason behind this is that it should be apparent that the middle-aged couple were unaware of the encounter between the narrator and the lady (or that woman).
Tweaked the final couplet. The word regretting is tighter than the phrase "remembering with sorrow," it allows the narrator to complete his thought.
Removed "fleeting" from the 7th stanza. This is the stanza I love the most, but I feel that the adjective "fleeting" weakens the exchange here. The narrator does such a good job of showing that it was a fleeting moment by not kissing her hand that I think it's best to remove the word. Simple case of showing vs. telling.

I really like this poem. A lot. Thank you, Harry, for submitting it. And be sure to read the Comments below. I'm sure the Poetic Asides gang will be throwing in their two cents.

*****

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*****

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Fun writing exercise

Tue, 18 Aug 2009 02:34:09 GMT

I always keep pens with me. And usually paper, though I've been known to write on anything near me if needed: Post-It notes, receipts, envelopes, brochures, napkins, etc. Often, I'll write out a few lines, and those lines will either lead to more lines (and eventually--hopefully--a poem) or that's where the fun will stop: just a few lines. I copy all my lines into those marbled Composition notebooks whether they turn into poems or not. The reason?

Because every so often, I'll go through my notebooks and play a little game with the following rules:

Gather up a lot of lines from different sources. The lines can be stand alone thoughts or good lines from abandoned poems.
Try to make a poem out of these lines.

You can add new lines, too, if you want. But the fun of this game is trying to take a bunch of little nothings and turn it into a big (or little, I suppose) something.

Here are some random lines I've got together:

* sprawl la la la la

* I've been waiting all night

* Define yourself by what you like
not by what you don't like

* situational ethics

* it's not the rain
   but the puddles
   that freak me out
   when I'm driving

* our toothbrushes lean into each other
when we travel and when we forget one
toothbrush we don't hesitate to share

* All the ways you can hurt a man
   while tucking your hair behind your ears
   and squinting into the sun. Chewing gum
   with your mouth open, you pull
   your sunglasses over your eyes
   before leaving me alone beside the pool.

* Babies like to touch stuff

* these are the things we tell each other
and the things we don't

* I've come for your taxes

* If I were born of the sea,
   I would carve your face
   upon a coral reef. My bottle
   would float its message
   for you to read. I would wait
   until the planet warmed...

* I got some kind of guilt

* let the old folks die
let them wither and die

* Like this girl walking...

* I could tell you to prepare
for the unexpected but we both
know there's no point

* Blame it all on the girlfriend

* I can't figure your signals out anymore.

(That's a good starting point, I think.)

*****

"Situational ethics"

Blame it all on the girlfriend:
She's been waiting all night
for him to say, "I got some
kind of guilt." But he's a big
baby, and babies like to touch

stuff. Like this girl walking
while tucking hair behind
her ears and squinting into
the sun, she chews gum
with her mouth open and

leaves him alone beside
the pool to think, "If I were
born of the sea, I would
carve your face upon a coral
reef. My bottle would float

its message for you to read:
Let the old folks die; let
them wither and fade
as we sprawl la la la la
across the salty waves."

She points at the clock, says,
"I can't figure your signals
out anymore." He says, "I
could tell you to prepare
for the unexpected, but we

both know there's no point."
He defines himself by what
he likes, not by what he
doesn't like. So he shows
her their toothbrushes,

how they lean into each
other when they travel,
"And when we forget one
toothbrush, we don't hesitate
to share," he says. These

are the things they tell
each other and the things
they don't. "It's not the rain
but the puddles that freak
me out when I'm driving,"

she says. He pulls her close
and leans down to tell her,
"I've come for your taxes."

*****

Best poem? No.

Fun? Yes. And now, I've got a bonafide poem that I can try revising.

Try it out with your own lines.

*****

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Poetry Workshop: 005

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 13:42:10 GMT

Some poems include too many details; many don't include enough. Most poems (mine included) are often too abstract, but sometimes it's not abstraction that's the problem, which can make it very hard to critique a poem. On the surface, the poem can seem almost complete. Such is the case with David Gorgone's "How To Be Idle," which I was tempted not workshop because of how it does feel almost complete. These are the toughest to revise, so let's try.

Here's the original draft:

How To Be Idle, by David Gorgone

When you find the time
grow some vegetables and keep a spare
loaf of bread in the cupboard.

Do not nap, but sleep,
stretch out on your couch.
Find comfort in dreams.

See your children. Visit the orphan.
Comfort the widow. Where they are
one can meet a brief paradise.

When visitors over stay their welcome
offer them a glass of water. If they refuse
poor the water over your vegetable garden.

Enjoy the vegetables you grew,
laugh with the orphan,
and sleep seeking paradise.

*****

I think you'll agree that this seems like a very nice poem on the surface. Most poets would only be able to offer that a comma could come at the end of the second line in the fourth stanza or that "poor" in the third line of the fourth stanza should be spelled "pour." Very superficial types of edits, to be sure. And why? Because this poem IS very close to being there; in fact, it wouldn't even surprise me to see a poem like this accepted for publication.

So why workshop it? Because this poem could be even better. If done right, this poem (or any poem really) has the potential to go from just being a good poem to being a very good poem or even great poem.

Poets need to know when to walk away from a poem (so that they don't wreck it like George Lucas wrecked his original Star Wars trilogy), but often poets get to that "good" threshold and abandon their poems too soon. I'm not saying that David has a bunch of orphaned poems, but he wrote the poem I'm looking at this week.

To find the flaws in this poem, we need to study it carefully from the title all the way through to the last word. The title, "How To Be Idle," is a good one. I like "how-to" titles, because they offer up a lot of room for fun. The poem can actually show a reader how to be idle or how not to be idle. And this exposes the first flaw.

The first stanza advises growing a garden and keeping a spare loaf of bread in the cupboard. Great opening! Second stanza advises to sleep instead of nap, to find comfort in dreams. Reasonable, yes. Third stanza advises a plethora of activities--all very vague figures without shapes or personalities--and then caps off with meeting "a brief paradise." Fourth stanza is maybe my favorite with the visitors overstaying their welcome and pouring water on the garden. Fifth stanza attempts to tie things together.

By looking at the title and each stanza and how each stanza works with the title and how each stanza works with each other stanza, here are my recommendations:

Go ironic and humorous. Since the title is "How To Be Idle," show how not to be idle. There's already a lot of that in here. From visiting orphans and having visitors overstay their welcome to maintaining a vegetable garden, the "you" in this poem is not being idle.
Expand the characters. You don't have to introduce everyone by name, but maybe have an exchange or two between them. "Comfort the widow," is so vague. With other vague statements, it really weakens the poem. Try something like, "Comfort Aunt Matilda, who lost her husband to a car wreck 27 years ago. Let her know things will eventually turn around." With the tercets, you can make each exchange its own stanza, which reminds me...
Keep the tercets. It was a great choice for keeping the poem moving. Remember: you don't have to end every stanza with a period. Just look at my poem from yesterday's poetry prompt to see how you can jump from one stanza to the next to keep the reader moving down the page.
Take out the final stanza. That last stanza is a tie it all up stanza. I'm guilty of writing them myself, so I know. With the poem you have now, it would be better to end with pouring the water on the vegetable garden. Or, in a revision, you may decide to end the poem with the "you" waving the visitors off. Or with the "you" deciding something like: "Next time, go to Hawaii."

So it seems as if I've come down hard on this poem, right? Not really. This is a good poem--as I've mentioned--but we, as poets, should always be looking for ways a poem might improve. Once we've reached that point, then move on. But we should try to avoid abandoning poems prematurely. And I don't feel David's done so here; obviously, he submitted it to be workshopped--so even he felt there was something that needed done.

Hopefully, my comments will help as he makes tough decisions on where to take his poem next. And hopefully, you'll all add your words of advice and encouragement in the Comments below.

*****

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*****

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Interview With Poet Sydney Lea

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 14:59:35 GMT

I discovered Sydney Lea earlier this year while reading issue five of New Ohio Review. I loved both his poems, but especially "Early Life." As the founder and former editor of New England Review, I suppose I should've already known his work. Lea has published a novel, A Place in Mind, and two collections of nonfiction, Hunting the Whole Way Home and A Little Wildness.

Lea's most recent collection, Ghost Pain (Sarabande Books), is his eighth volume of poems. Its predecessor, Pursuit of the Wound, was a Pulitzer finalist and his To the Bone: New and Selected Poems was co-winner of the Poets' Prize. He's received fellowships from nearly everywhere and currently teaches at Dartmouth College.

Here's one of my favorites from his collection Ghost Pain:

Evening Walk as the School Year Starts

When was the last lobotomy, I wonder?
Too late for Carl at least, whom it's all but hopeless
to think of as a whipsaw of hateful passion
that would if it could have torn up his mother and father,
mild as they are; but that's how old villagers say
Carl acted before he was cut. Their smiles are rueful.
They shake their heads, subtle. A raven, unsubtle,
grates from a hemlock as Carl steps into sight.

His wave's familiar: he jerks and drops one palm.
How old must he be? He's ageless. His eyes are empty--
the operation. He turns now: ninety degrees,
then ninety again like a sentry, the other way.
He turns the same on each warm evening, retreating
past the house of our mutual neighbor, who will not speak
to Carl's father, for reasons likely beyond recall.
It seems a shame not to edit grievances.

It's some awful stink nearby that draws the raven,
but the rest of the world seems fixed on the morbid too:
a squirrel keeps pouring spruce cones down at me;
a gall-blighted butternut groans; the broadleafs wilt;
there's a pair of toads at my feet that wheels have flattened
side by side, like cartoon icons of failure;
mosquitoes strafe me, a mammoth dragonfly--
one of the season's last--attacks a moth

so close to me I can hear the fatal click.
The other day a son went off to college.
His mother and I are quietly beside ourselves.
We embrace each other harder now, and vow,
as one vows, to love our children harder too.
Though I hum to distract myself, the raven dives
loud as gunfire through brush to its mess. I jump,
but Carl doesn't seem to hear. I watch him limp

to his family's drive--then again that sure right angle.
Like him, our family finds a virtue in order:
we rise at six to eat our breakfasts together,
then make a certain sandwich for one of the girls,
a certain one for the other; we leave at seven;
we gather the girls promptly at end of school.
Carl opens his door and shuts it--click--behind him.
It's after Labor Day, it's end-of-summer,

it's another season upon us. Now he scolds me,
the squirrel on his branch, his store of weapons gone.
Why me, dumb brute? I haven't done anything wrong,
I've got no grievance with him--not with anyone really.
The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide.
The wishing star is not enough to light
the space around me while this bit of hymn from my schooldays
plays, while daytime's creatures crawl to cover,

and night ones, having no choice, confront the night.

*****

What are you up to?

Well, I just finished a teaching term at Dartmouth. My grad students are adults, many of them high school teachers in search of an advanced degree, and I feel, in my semi-retirement (one course per term), as though I'd died and gone to heaven. The students have been around the block a bit, have had jobs, marriages, children, deaths to contend with, and so on; to that extent, they command subject matter that's often beyond undergrads experience. That's not the undergrads fault, of course. I am moved and inspired by the examples of these aspirant writers in the grad program. Teaching them, to the extent that I can call it that, allows me to stay in touch with a younger generation, have a good deal of time left over for my own writing, and--almost best of all--though I am asked to, I never go to faculty meetings.

I'm also much engaged in non-literary undertakings. I'm the vice-president of Central Vermont Adult Basic Education, which is above all a literacy endeavor, literacy now including computer literacy and more and more, even here in Vermont, English as a second language. CVABE serves three Vermont counties and offers instruction to a thousand students a year. I've been a trustee for almost two decades.

I have also long been involved in a conservation effort in Washington County, Maine, where I, like my late father, have had a camp for decades and decades. Lately the local land trust bought the development rights on 345,000 acres, and bought 34,000 acres outright to be run as a sustainable community forest. Now another 22,000 acres has come on the market rather unexpectedly, so I need to help raise several million more dollars beyond the 35 that the last campaign required. In the grand scheme of things, my contribution to saving these pristine woods and waters may end up being the most important thing--beyond raising five kids--I'll have done.

I have just sold a ninth collection of poems to Four Way Books too, and am trying to finish a second novel; I hope to have it close enough to complete to let my agent look at it in fall.

You're the founder and former editor of New England Review. As an editor, what do you feel makes a good poem?

Oh, there is no short answer to that one! Fact is, I rather shy from the frequent tendency among authors, editors and publishers to choose up teams. If as a poet in my own right, for example, I tend toward formalism, no one could ever force me into positing that approach as ipso facto superior. I love Don Justice in his formal mode, for example, but I also love Allen Ginsberg at his best. I do tend to dislike obscurantism, and ditto preciousness, and I can't for the life of me see what so-called L-A-N-G-U-A-G-E poetry is for.

Ghost Pain was your eighth volume of poems. How do you go about assembling a collection?

I was lucky enough to have Robert Penn Warren as a mentor when I was a younger man, and his description of how he knew he was done with a book still strikes home for me. He says that you write and you write and you write, and in due course you realize that a certain curve of energy has completed itself, that the stuff you are writing now is differently motivated from what you've been doing for some time. I know that's vague, but I can't seem to do better, in that I don't conceive of collections in an aprioristic, programmatic way.

You teach at Dartmouth College. Does teaching inform or influence your writing?

I may have answered that question above, at least in part. The plain truth is that I haven't been entirely innocent of stealing "ideas" from students, ones that they may have been too new at the game to have pulled off successfully. But that's a rarity. Teaching is important to me as a hedge against adopting a mood like Hemingway's at his worst: Long time ago good, now no good. For forty years, in every course I have found at least one young woman or man who bolsters my faith not only in poetry but also in human nature. Also, by my own choice I live a long way from alleged centers of sophistication, which is helpful to me in that it keeps me from the occasional belief of writers in this era of Creeping MFAism that EVERYONE is concerned with literature. Few of my neighbors are concerned with it, at least in the way that the MFAer may be. And yet I do need the "fix" of talking passionately about poetry, fiction, creative writing" in general, and I get it via my students; I get it a lot more from them than from academic colleagues at any rate.

Ghost Pain includes the long poem "A Man Walked Out." What's the most challenging aspect of writing a long poem?

Here's the weird thing. I have written a number of long poems, starting perhaps with "The Feud" in my second collection, moving through "To the Bone" from my 1996 new and selected, into "A Man Walked Out" and most lately into something called "Birds:A Farrago" from my forthcoming book, Young of the Year. And each of these poems seems somehow to have been given to me. Each seems to have followed on a fairly long period of disinclination from writing. Not writer's block but disinclination (whose causes remain unknown to me). Then these poems come in a rush, and I rarely do much in the way of revising them. Is that "inspiration?" I don't know, don't even know if I believe in such a thing, really; rather, I believe these gimmes are the payoff for all those hours of revision that I have put into shorter poems.

So in a sense I am a poor candidate to answer your question. I don't conceive of long poems; they present themselves to me helter skelter. Weird, as I say.

Your poetry has been published in several publications over the years. How do you manage your submissions?

Oh, nothing special: I wait until I have, say, three poems that seem to be as good as they are ever going to be, and then I send them out. After three decades plus, needless to say I have certain favorite journals and editors, and I tend to give them first crack. No, that sounds immodest. They are the readers, rather, who I hope may smile on one of the ones I send on. I have had the experience of landing so many poems with editor X, however, that I begin to feel as if he or she is not sufficiently resistant to what I am doing; I need to overcome real critical skepticism in order to trust that the poem is significant to someone beside myself.

Who or what are you currently reading?

I am rereading the two latest books by Maxine Kumin. At 66, it strengthens me to see someone almost twenty years older doing such marvelous work, probably the best of her wonderful career. I am also reading Elizabeth Strout's stunning novel, Olivia Kitteredge. I read a great deal, too, in natural history publications. A delightful advantage of having given up my specifically academic inclinations a long time ago, despite my unlamented Ph.D. in Comparative Literature, is that I don't think I need to read in a muscular way, to cover a field or keep up with critical postures. I enjoy, in Eliot's delicious phrasing, "the poet's necessary laziness."

If you could offer only one piece of advice to other poets, what would it be?

Oh, I am a terrible advice-giver, or rather just not inclined to give it at all. My way to practice writing is that and that alone; it is not "right" except for me, is not necessarily shareable. To the degree that it may be shared, I prefer to pass it on by way of engaging in dialogue, not laying down rules and prescriptions. I do have one piece of advice to my students, though: write a lot for, say, a decade, in the sure faith that anything you do with diligence for a long time is something you'll get better at. You may not get great (who's to make that judgment anyhow in our lifetimes?), but you WILL get better. I suspect that there were people out there who had as much talent as Michael Jordan, to use an analogy; Michael Jordan became Michael Jordan, though, because he relentlessly practiced his moves.

*****

* To learn more about Sydney Lea, go to www.sydneylea.net

* To learn more about Sarabande Books, go to www.sarabandebooks.org

* To learn more about Four Way Books, go to www.fourwaybooks.com

*****

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Poetry Workshop: 004

Thu, 30 Jul 2009 17:06:06 GMT

As you've probably noticed (if you've been reading this blog for any length of time), there are so many possible poems out there waiting to be written. This week's poetry workshop will look at an event poem by Jane Eamon.

Here's the original draft:

Black Friday, by Jane Eamon

I was 24 that day in '39

They call it Black Friday now

But it was a day like any other day

Ole Frank Burns rang up to say

There was a fire burning

At the pine plantation and

Would I like to come along to see it

I seen a little fire on the telly

Fought with bulldozer, a grader

11 tankers and helicopters

All to fight a scrub fire we could

Have put out with 20 men

I grabbed my horse and my rake

And went along to see

It was a fire all right, burning in the dry top of the ridge

It went right across the Rubicon

Another 20 miles

I got to working with the other boys

Me with my rake

Them with crosscut saws and shovels

It looked like we'd made a difference

But she'd only pulled in for the night

The wind had other plans

Blowing fearsome, hot from the north west

That fire roared its presence

We couldn't do anything

We couldn't go anywhere

We bedded down in the bush

In the heat of the day

So we could fight it in the cool of the night

But we weren't making no difference

That fire was burning hungry

30 miles along and

Eating everything in its path

We found Ruth

Just lying in the road

Clutching tobacco and looked to be sleeping

She must have died from the smoke

Hermon's sawmill went up in the middle of the firestorm

All them trees just disappeared

No stumps, no nothing, like they'd never been there

The river dried up

14 miles up the Acheron Way

They say the river actually stopped running

For three hours

We did our best, we fought it

It came to rest

Sated like with a full belly

It took 71 lives that day

And burned to the ground over 5,000,000 acres

It's a day I won't ever forget

Funny how it was Friday the 13, January 1939

And here's a little note that Jane included after the poem: Inspired by the 2nd largest natural disaster in Australia's history – the Victoria Bushfires of 1939. Taken from an eyewitness account of Murray Thompson.

*****

I don't think the note is needed to explain that this was a fire, but I'm glad Jane included it, because knowing this was a huge event (as opposed to a minor one) can help a poet think about scope when dealing with the subject. We'll look at scope in just a few, but first, let's look at what we have here.

First, I'm not sure how close Jane is sticking to actual accounts. Hopefully, she has taken a real account and fictionalized that account. I'm going to make the assumption that this is the case with this poem.

Second, there are some great details in this poem--from Ruth, who "must have died from the smoke," clutching her tobacco to the narrator grabbing his horse and rake. There's a lot going on here.

Third, there's a lack of punctuation. I don't see a reason not to include proper punctuation. So, that's something.

Finally, this poem feels like it could be tightened. Of course, I love the narrative voice, but we can retain that voice while still tightening up the language. For instance, I would take out the first line because it adds little to the poem. We learn he's 24, but that doesn't factor into the story at all, and we learn that it's 1939 later in the poem.

In fact, we shouldn't even mention it's 1939, because the actual year isn't overly important. It's more important that it's called Black Friday and that it's Friday the 13th.

That brings us to scope of the poem. This poem is trying to take on a huge event--much like the narrator was trying to take on a huge fire. It took a team of people to fight the fire, and I think this event probably requires a team of voices to do it justice.

Recently, I read a very good collection of poems by Ted Kooser dealing specifically with the blizzard of January 12, 1888, on the Great Plains called The Blizzard Voices. He collected several fictional accounts based on actual recollections and recorded documents and let the individual poems create a document for this huge and devastating event. This is what I think Jane should do for Black Friday.

By collecting accounts, this would give each poem the freedom to focus on the event from the perspective of each narrator and allow for a more personal connection to how this fire changed lives. Each slice would then create a more complete portrait of what Black Friday really meant.

Of course, I'm asking Jane to do a lot of work. I'm asking her to do a significatnt amount of research to figure out what the various stories are. I'm asking her to write a lot of poems in different voices. But if she does put in the work, she should have something that is not only poetically signficant but also historically valuable. To achieve greatness, one has to be willing to roll up his or her sleeves and get at it.

So here are my recommendations:

Expand the scope of this poem/project. This poem deals with a big event that changed many lives. Instead of trying to make the poem cover everything, let it focus on one aspect. Then, write more poems--in other voices--to make the event more complete.
Keep adding in the great details. This poem has wonderful details--the kind that really help a poem (or a collection of poems) stick with a reader. As you add more poems, keep flexing your muscles in this regard.
Tighten the language in places. Keep the voices unique and personality-driven, but don't let them ramble. In conversation, it's easy to gloss over when narrators ramble too much. This is even more true on the printed page.
Add punctuation. There's no reason to avoid punctuation in these poems.
Research. As you've probably noticed, I'm making the assumption that this one poem really needs to be a series of poems. To write a series of poems based on a historical event, there needs to be at least some level of research. Don't go overboard, and don't include every detail. Use what's essential and discard the rest.

As usual, realize these are just my thoughts on this poem and that many others will probably say they love the poem just as it is. I'm not going to argue that point, because judging each poem is a very subjective process that finally comes down to what the actual poet decides. In my mind, I see a very great collection possible if you're willing to put in the time and effort to expand this one poem into a series.

Thanks so much for sharing, Jane!

*****

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*****

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Poetry Workshop: 003

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 17:02:07 GMT

Sometimes the hardest part of attacking a poem is figuring out what the real poem should be. In my opinion, such is the case with this week's workshop poem by Dianne Ryan. I'm not saying that she does a bad job with the way she wrote her poem--just that the more interesting poem would emerge with a shift in focus.

Here's the original draft:

Pebbles, by Dianne Ryan

It's been six weeks maybe more

since I left you standing at your door.

You wanted me to leave

not ready to take us to another level you said -

whatever that means.

So now I'm gone and out of your life.

You seemed so cold

not one tear or a trace of regret.

Did you care for me at all?

Was I just like a pebble that

you noticed and then kicked away

never to wonder where that pebble was today.

If you took the time you would have found

that this pebble was in fact a rock

solid but a little unsteady

waiting and ready

for someone to pick up

and notice what a wonderful

rock this pebble turned out to be.

*****

Before I get into why I think this poem is focusing in the wrong direction, let's take a look at a few things to avoid in general.

First, the opening two lines throw off the rhythm of the next stanza because they rhyme. As I've said before on this blog, I have nothing against rhymes, but when the first two lines rhyme that sets up an expectation on the part of the reader. This is repeated in the final two lines of the fourth stanza with "away" and "today" as well as in the fifth stanza "unsteady" and "ready." The fifth stanza rhyme is not as bad, but the fourth stanza rhyme seems intentional and a little forced--and since there's no consistency to the rhyme, it just seems more than a little out of place.

Second, there's the problem with abstraction. Stanza three especially is loaded up with them: "You seemed so cold"; "trace of regret"; and you have to be careful any time you use tears in a poem, because it's a loaded word and image that is often used too frequently.

Third, metaphor and simile are important and useful tools for a poet, but let's think about how they are used in this poem. The narrator is trying to make the reader feel good about losing her because she's now a "rock." I know the intent, but I don't think many ex-lovers are going to worry too much over leaving a rock behind. So, I'd just suggest thinking about how the metaphors and similes actually read before using them.

Now as to the focus of the poem, I think this poem. I feel that the spurned lover thing has been done so many times. You really have to have a fresh take on the subject to grab the interest of your readers. At the moment, what interests me the most is the conditions of the actual break up.

Here are my suggestions:

Avoid the rhyme. You always have to look at this on a poem-by-poem basis, and in this case, I don't think the rhyme is a factor in the poem.
Avoid abstraction. Try to focus on actual descriptions, whether descriptions of physical objects or actual actions.
Think about metaphor and simile. I would advise in this poem to avoid them outright. There are definitely times and places to use them, but I wouldn't suggest doing so for this poem.
Write in third person narrative voice. Try writing this poem without "I" and "you." Instead, use "she" and "he." I think you'll be surprised how this can help focus the poem.
Focus exclusively on the actual break up. Start with him telling her what he tells her. Then, let her actual actions show what she's thinking. Do this without telling what either actually feeling; remember to avoid abstraction. Just let their actions take over. This will allow your narrative voice to show instead of tell. I think you and your readers will be very surprised with the results.

So those are my suggestions. You can take them all; you can pick and choose the ones you want; or you can write me off as an idiot. As I've said before, there are rules and guidelines, but all of them are breakable and bendable.

*****

Do you want one of your poems workshopped? Click here to find out how you could possibly make it happen.

Interview With Poet Cati Porter

Tue, 21 Jul 2009 17:04:11 GMT

Cati Porter is founder and editor-in-chief of Poemeleon: A Journal of Poetry and associate editor (poetry) for Babel Fruit, and is the author of a chapbook of prose poems, small fruit songs (Pudding House Publications), and a full-length collection, Seven Floors Up (Mayapple Press). Cati also participated in the April PAD Challenge this year on Poetic Asides.

small fruit songs is a fun little chapbook--not only is the entire collection prose poems, but they also all explore fruit topics. Good stuff. Meanwhile, Seven Floors Up is a little more of a traditional collection, though it is still a whole lot of fun. In fact, one of Porter's strengths as a poet is her sense of humor.

Here's one of my favorites from Seven Floors Up:

"Caution Please Do Not Try to Turn
the Head Forcefully by Hand!"

(Label found on my son's jeans after his first day of preschool)

I don't know where it came from but it's there, stuck
to his grubby little knee as though someone

saw his small head, how tragically
fragile, how it could turn, like a lid, quite

around. I am grateful to whoever had the foresight
to apply that label, grateful that they did not choose

"Open Me First" or "Discard After _____,"
grateful they turned my attention to the fact

that someday someone may turn his head.

*****

What are you up to?

Well, right now I'm listening to a screaming child tell me I'm mean. It's the last week of school for my boys before their summer vacation. What that means for me is that I'm frantically trying to finish up any projects that require quiet time. I'm now in the middle stages of putting together a second manuscript which is, I think, a departure from the poems in Seven Floors Up; it's very associative and image-driven. Most of the poems in this collection were written in the last year or so, with the core comprised of poems written during NaPoWriMo, after prompts posted to the Poetic Asides blog. I've also been forcing myself to make time to send out more of my work -- the new poems, as well as my chapbook, (al)most delicious, an ekphrastic series after Modigliani's nudes.

I'm also just finishing my first year in Antioch University's MFA program, and preparing for the next residency which is coming up fast. I've been doing a lot of reading, some for the seminars, but mostly for my field study, and have a pile of Marilyn Nelson's and Molly Bendall's books on my desk.

Oh, and I'm beginning to read the submissions that are coming through for Poemeleon's gender issue.

As the Editor-in-Chief of Poemeleon and poetry editor of Babel Fruit, what do you feel makes a good poem?

There are lots of good poems. So so many competently and compellingly good poems. For me, though, they all have certain things in common. And that's the drawback. What's really rare, though, is the great poem, which is so much harder to define: It's the one that hits me in the gut; It's the one that makes everything become suddenly clear, or makes what was previously clear so utterly muddled that I'm dumbstruck. Good poems make me want to sit down and write until my fingers ache. Great poems leave me wondering if I'll ever be able to write again.

But great poems are difficult. In order to write great poems, we must first write good poems. (And of course, before that and in-between, the essential bad poems.)

Both good poems as well as great poems employ craft, image, music, voice, and use them to forward the ideas embedded in the poem. The devices inform, rather than dictate, the shape of the poem, become integral to the movement of a piece -- both on the page and in the head. To take a step back, what separates a good poem from a bad poem? The usage of those same devices: A bad poem uses them to ill effect -- sets out to write a sonnet and writes one, no matter whether the end rhymes are forced, syntax needlessly inverted, the phrases stilted and awkward. A good poem never does that, not without good cause.

But the difference between a good poem and a great poem? That's a little more subtle, but I think it's that gut punch. If it's not there, I might be willing to hang around with it for a while, but it's not the one I'm going to remember down the road.

small fruit songs is a collection of prose poems about fruit. What do you like about the prose poem as a poetic form?

At the time I was writing small fruit songs, I had previously been in love with received forms and was trying them all out. Often my results fell under the "bad poem" heading. But one day, after deciding that I wanted to write a series that used fruit-related terminology as its impetus, I sat down and just allowed my subconscious to take over, and what came out was very associative, unstructured, and organic, which felt like the right choice for the material.

What I like most about the prose poem is its versatility. I've read prose poems that read like stories, prose poems that read like excerpts from a training manual, lyric prose poems, prose poems as dramatic monologue, prose poems as pseudo-journalism, surrealist prose poems.... That said, as versatile as it is, I don't think the prose poem is the end-all, beat-all. It's not functional if the form is forced.

Do you have a writing routine?

I wish! I prefer writing in the very early morning when the house is quiet, but with kids and with a household to run, I have to be more fluid. I used to get up in the middle of the night, but I can only take so much sleep deprivation. I do get up at about five or five-thirty, sometimes earlier, but most days I need a couple cups of coffee -- and an empty house -- to be productive. If I can't finish what I'm working on while they're at school, it's catch-as-catch-can. And I can't use anything but a computer. My handwriting is awful so even if I manage to scribble a few lines while out running around, usually I can't read it later!

Seven Floors Up has some very funny poems in it, including poems inspired by eBay listings. What do you think helps make a humorous poem effective?

Humor is unpredictable. You never know what's going to strike someone as funny. My boys and I spent about an hour watching flashmob videos on YouTube yesterday. One of them was for the Best Funeral Ever. Later I described the scene to my husband. He said, "That's not funny." But it was to us, to me. I laughed hysterically at the sight of thirty people dressed in black showing up and pretending to know the deceased. Which now sounds so totally ludicrous, and inconsiderate.

At Poemeleon we recently published an issue on humorous poems which included a great essay by Renee Ashley on involuntary comedy. Humor is very personal. Heck, all poetry is personal. But what one person finds funny another may think is just plain dumb. I think the trick is not to set out to write a funny poem. If something strikes you as funny, and you decide you want to use it in a poem, do it right then and there before you lose the spark. When my husband was searching eBay for businesses for sale, he happened upon this thing called an inflatable church. I just started laughing. And I knew I wanted to write about it. So I stayed up late that night and got a first draft out. But it's not enough for the poem to be funny -- in order for it to be an effective poem it must also contain some other relevant nugget of wisdom or what have you. In the case of the inflatable church, I found it not just funny, but almost blasphemous (and I'm not a religious person), and in a strange way somewhat true -- thinking about prosperity churches and such, in their depiction of a church as a business opportunity.

How did you go about putting together your collections Seven Floors Up and small fruit songs?

Seven Floors Up was a long time in the making. Before it was published, it made the rounds as a chapbook titled Where We Dwell, which itself began as a chapbook titled Seven Floors Up to the Kitchen of the Soul, a title I had hoped to return to but which my publisher thought was too long so it was shortened. The poems were written over the course of about eight years, beginning when my first son was born up until just weeks before the book went to press. And I spent hours, literally hours, laying all of the poems out and ordering them until it felt right.

With small fruit songs, I fiddled with it for a little while, but then noticed a trend -- the narrative seemed to follow the same trajectory as the alphabet, so I just put them in alphabetical order, and, Voila!, it was done. Oh, and I should mention, it was written in under seven days and had a publisher in ten. Go figure.

Who are you currently reading?

I've been reading a lot of work that's been loosely dubbed Gurlesque: Brenda Shaughnessy, Chelsea Minnis, Catherine Wagner, plus Arielle Greenberg; I've especially loved reading Ann Carson & Alice Notley. And of course Marilyn Nelson and Molly Bendall. I actually have a running list (with annotations) of books that I've read recently on the "What I'm Reading" tab on my blog.

If you could offer only one piece of advice to your fellow poets, what would it be?

Write bad poems. Take risks. Learn from them. Don't get bogged down in endless revisions. If it's a bad poem know when to let it go. Then go write a better poem.

*****

* Learn more about Cati Porter at her blog: http://catiporter.wordpress.com/

* For more on Seven Floors Up and Mayapple Press, go to www.mayapplepress.com

* For more on small fruit songs and Pudding House Publications, go to www.puddinghouse.com

* For more on Poemeleon, go to www.poemeleon.org

* For more on Babel Fruit, go to www.babelfruit.org

*****

If you're a poet or publisher interested in a Poetic Asides interview, click here to find out how you might be able to make it happen.

Poetry Workshop: 001

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 15:54:32 GMT

I've been meaning to incorporate revision tips into this blog in a helpful way since it first started, but I've had trouble figuring out a good method for doing so. Finally, I had one of those "light bulb" moments when the answer seems so obvious: I'll just workshop a poem each week.

The original poems submitted to me to get us started were submitted via Facebook. Members of my Poetic Asides group on that site were sent a message soliciting poems that I could try offering feedback. Not every poem submitted to me will receive feedback or appear on the blog, but every poem has the same chance. (I'll include directions on how to submit your own poem--if interested--in a later post on this blog.)

It should be noted that my feedback should not be considered the final word on any poem. As poets, we have to make the final decisions on what works and does not. But I will try to give many suggestions and ask the kind of questions any good reader or writer of poetry should consider.

Today's poem was submitted by J. Era Martin. Here it is in its original form:

Childhood, by J. Era Martin

They named me Era,

As though somehow the Word alone would empower me.

A man of Signs, my father

lifted me, a Tin of Elements,

to the moon and shouted Kunte Kente,

somewhat inappropriately, I’m sure.

He favoured the Yin and the Yang

without any clue to Balance;

he would fight and lose teeth—

three times he lost and replaced and finally lost

the front one. But he never stopped

Smiling.

It was sort of maniacal, really.

You could tell he just wanted

to please, but there he was, unfolding

a Thousand Visible Lies right

to your Face.

Christmas he’d spend

the morning with us, the afternoon

with his Illegitimate Family. I would

hang up on his Mistress when

she phoned.

He’d keep a Job no more than five days:

having told his boss a better way

of pouring concrete, he’d be fired.

Daddy smelled like Budweiser when

I hugged him.

I would feed it to him and his buddies

in their F 250 Trucks in the driveway to our house.

I was a Good Girl.

Our family always rented.

The second floor was converted

to a Bedroom from a Game Room

For my parents and my baby sister.

Wolf Spiders hung above her crib.

The previous tenant had committed

Suicide in that room.

I remember I would wake up

to woodpeckers. Their

Irregular Beats were fierce.

My father came home less and less often.

I think this is how The Story always goes.

His partying was excused: better to

Stay The Night than Drive Home Drunk,

my mom explained.

*****

My first question: Why are so many words in uppercase? Signs, Tin of Elements, Balance, Face, etc. I'm assuming these words are meant to be emphasized, but doing so with a device like capitalization (or bold and italic) is often distracting for a reader. It was for me, and I can't see a good reason for emphasizing those specific words.

Next, I know the title of the poem is "Childhood," but I'm not sure if this poem is as much about the childhood of the narrator as about her father. It seems like shifting the focus specifically to the father would benefit this poem a great deal.

In fact, the strongest parts of this poem--for me--were when describing the father's teeth and his other family. So, a good strategy after discovering what this poem may be about is to cut out the rest of the excess.

*****

2nd version--taking out caps and excess information

Childhood, by J. Era Martin

A man of signs, my father

lifted me, a tin of elements,

to the moon and shouted Kunte Kinte,

somewhat inappropriately, I’m sure.

He favoured the yin and the yang

without any clue to balance;

he would fight and lose teeth—

three times he lost and replaced and finally lost

the front one. But he never stopped

smiling.

It was sort of maniacal, really.

You could tell he just wanted

to please, but there he was, unfolding

a thousand visible lies right

to your face.

Christmas he’d spend

the morning with us, the afternoon

with his illegitimate family. I would

hang up on his mistress when

she phoned.

Our family always rented.

The second floor was converted

to a bedroom from a game room

for my parents and my baby sister.

Wolf spiders hung above her crib.

The previous tenant had committed

suicide in that room.

My father came home less and less often.

I think this is how the story always goes.

His partying was excused: better to

stay the night than drive home drunk,

my mom explained.

*****

After the second version, I still feel this poem could be tightened quite a bit and made more immediate. In fact, I think the title should change to focus on the family element of this poem.

To make the poem more immediate, I'm going to once again strip out anything that does not relate to the tension in this family. And, as you'll probably notice, I'm going to flip the ending image to the front, because I feel like it's just sticking out at the end.

*****

3rd version--changing title, moving lines around and ever tightening

Our Family Always Rented, by J. Era Martin

My father came home less and less often.

"Better to stay the night than drive home drunk,"

my mom explained. A man of signs, my father

favoured the yin and the yang without any clue

to balance; Christmas, he'd spend the morning
with us, the afternoon with his illegitimate family.

You could tell he just wanted to please, but
there he was unfolding his hands like the lies

he fed us. It was sort of maniacal, really,

the way he would fight and lose teeth—

three times he lost and replaced and finally lost

the front one. But he never stopped smiling.

*****

For me, this third version really gets the message across in a concise manner. In the beginning, this poem sets up the familiar story we're used to hearing about the father with a family on the side. Where this poem twists in a new direction is by focusing on his fight with his teeth. Trying to keep them, but ultimately losing the one in front. Regardless, he never stops smiling.

Great poem, J., and I hope some of my feedback has helped.

Of course, my feedback is not the end. I hope that the readers of this blog will jump in and offer their own feedback on J.'s poem. Plus, don't be afraid to refute my feedback and edits. I totally think the best way to workshop is to have several different opinions. The more the better. Plus, with more feedback, J. will have even more options for which direction she ultimately wishes to take this poem.

Interview with poet Kathryn Stripling Byer

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 23:24:27 GMT

Kathryn Stripling Byer is the former poet laureate of North Carolina. She has published five poetry collections, most recently Coming to Rest (Louisiana State University Press). She's also one of those rare poets who have a business card.

Coming to Rest is a great collection--even has two Halloween poems. Here's one of my favorites:

Coastal Plain

The only clouds
forming are crow clouds,

the only shade, oaks
bound together in a tangle of oak

limbs that signal the wind
coming, if there is any wind

stroking the flat
fields, the flat

swatch of corn.
Far as anyone's eye can see, corn's

dying under the sky
that repeats itself either as sky

or as water
that won't remain water

for long on the highway: its shimmer
is merely the shimmer

of one more illusion that yields
to our crossing as we ourselves yield

to our lives, to the roots
of our landscape. Pull up the roots

and what do we see but the night
soil of dream, the night

soil of what we call
home. Home that calls

and calls
and calls.

*****

What are you up to?

Just now I've been reading online Eavan Boland's essay in the May issue of Poetry, finding her description of the two contradictory ways of being a poet extremely helpful. With my term as North Carolina's first woman Poet Laureate coming to a close, I've felt the pull of the private grow stronger and stronger, even as I never doubted the importance of the position I held as Laureate. It's rejuvenating to find an essay giving voice to what's been milling around inside my own head, giving it context, both literary and historical, so that I can say, "Yes, I understand the lay of the land a lot better now." The two seemingly antithetical "types" exist in most of us, I think, and I know they do inside me. One minute, get me out of here, then the next, what can I do to bring more North Carolina poets to public notice?

Having finished Boland's essay, I'm now worrying about the tomato plants in our garden. Two of them aren't thriving and one of the heirlooms is being nibbled by something. Rabbit? Raccoon? This afternoon I will hope to get back to some of my own work, print it out, scribble on the pages for a while. I've a new manuscript I'm hoping to place, Descent, which takes me back to the landscape of the deep South from which I came. And what must be dozens of notebooks scattered all over the house containing drafts of poems, essays and stories--I have to track them down! I'm hopelessly disorganized.

You were the poet laureate of North Carolina from 2003 to 2009. What were your responsibilities as North Carolina's poet laureate?

I was told at the outset that I could write my own job description. Well, with Fred Chappell as your predecessor, that's not going to be easy. Fred set quite a high standard, and I knew I was going to have to work hard to meet it. Mostly I wanted to help make poetry accessible in as many ways I could, whether to other poets (we have so many in our state!) or to readers, students, teachers, anyone at all who cared to listen to me on my soapbox.

Right away the Literature Director of the NC Arts Council, Debbie McGill, and I began a web page on the Council site devoted to NC writers, with a poet of the week, new books section, and news. Finally we had to give up the week by week poet; it was a lot of work to keep that going. We moved to a Poets of the Month, and finally to a quarterly web page. I decided to set up my own laureate blog to facilitate what the Council was trying to do, especially now with the budget freeze in place.

So, what else did I do? I wrote occasional poems for libraries, events, really, all sorts of requests. One, even, for someone's 60th birthday! I visited classrooms, gave a lot of readings, answered a lot of e-mails, and wrote a lot of blurbs. I'd say my job description was "always available." I was always trying to track down new voices to share with an audience. Although the council can't afford to search for and select a new laureate till state finances improve, they've asked me to continue the blog, which I'm happy to do. Working on it gives me a lot of satisfaction.

How important do you feel community is for poets?

So many of us, of a certain generation anyway, have embedded in our imaginations the image of the solitary poet, the Romantic standing alone on the summit, brooding over the world below and its connection with the world inside. At the same time, we know that poets need each other, just as they always have, maybe now more than ever, and they need to feel that they are part of their own communities, where they become involved in the cultural and political life of that community. I've tried myself to become involved in various issues important to me locally—the new library, for instance, writing a poem for the groundbreaking, letters to the paper and so forth. The moratorium on new development in our county drew me into writing guest editorials as well as poems.

We are lucky to have a local weekly that cares about such things. The larger newspapers are turning away from their literary pages, even their guest editorials. I know the internet is picking up a lot of the slack. Blogs. Facebook. Twitter. I've just joined Facebook after keeping my distance for a good while. I was warned by a friend, "You will be falling into a black hole." So far I'm still ok, and I'm discovering that I can post news there about my latest laureate features and other literary matters of interest to me. The definition of "community" is changing, no doubt about that, and I still prefer face to face community, but I'll use what I can to make the case for poetry.

North Carolina may be the best state in which to live if you are a writer. The NC Writers Network was begun nearly 30 years ago, and it has worked hard to bring real literary community to the state, a state that for so long had its regions strictly marked—mountain (where writers got little notice), Piedmont (Mecca, as we used to call it) and eastern/coastal, as isolated as the mountains. Now, thanks to NCWN and umbrella organizations like Netwest, among others, I can say that the whole state is Mecca. It didn't happen overnight. It took years of ground-breaking by good people, like Debbie McGill of the Arts Council, Marsha Warren and her stalwarts at NCWN, and all the local folks who came together to form their own literary organizations. Writers need each other and they need to feel a connection with their readers and future readers. It's fine to stand on a mountain-top and brood—I've done that myself--but we have to come back down again and live in our communities. Let our voices be heard.

In Coming to Rest, location factors into several poems. How important do you feel location is to a poet?

I firmly believe a poet has to feel located somewhere, in some physical place where light falls on the ground, the earth grumbles and sings, the leaves fall, the sewage stinks, and so forth. "You have to be from somewhere before you can write about anywhere else," as Fred Chappell, our resident genius, once said. Or as Flannery O'Conner said, "Our limitations are our gateways to reality." My gateway literally squeaked, rusty and old, there was pig-stink all around, my people were hard-scrabble farmers, but it was a way into my first poems. And from there, I could go anywhere. Anywhere!

You work in relationships with your daughter and husband in first person narrative poems. Where do you draw the line between reality and fiction?

Sometimes it’s hard to know where to draw the line. I let the poem itself guide me. The poems drawing in daughter and husband in Coming to Rest were different in that personal inclusion. So many of my earlier poems had been "persona poems," where I could work out any inner narratives through a fictional character--the mountain woman named Alma, for example, or the aging Evelyn. James Dickey's famous statement, "Poetry lies in order to tell the truth," seems apt here, as does Richard Hugo's, "You owe reality nothing, your emotions everything." What I mean is, you fictionalize, you improvise when you come up against what you can't or can't yet say or may never want to say outright. Yes, let's don't forget Dickinson's, "Tell the truth but tell it slant." There are ways of getting around reality into a poetic reality. The poem itself has seemed to draw the line for me when I am paying adequate attention to language and craft. The reality in a poem is, finally, language and how it is used.

How do you handle the submissions process?

Right now I'm not submitting much at all, though I'm happy to oblige if an editor asks me to submit some work. Otherwise I'm dealing with the day-to-day business of being wife, mother, daughter, laureate, friend, and as you see, at the bottom of the list, poet. But can't poet be intertwined with all of the above?

I used to be diligent about the submissions process, keeping records, reading Poets & Writers faithfully, but I came to find the process taking up so much energy—what to send where and when, then the irritation (that's putting it mildly) of rejections, the envy of seeing friends with poems in magazines that had rejected my work, and so on. It began to be tiresome. I'm ready to try again, though, with the new work I've done over the past few months. I've been in P0-biz for 40 years. I still get a thrill from having poems accepted, and I still get pretty testy when they are rejected. I don't want to think of myself as over and done with. I simply won't, and that's all there is to it.

Why do you write poetry?

It's the best way I know to sing with the world. And because I couldn't be Renee Fleming or Emmy Lou Harris. Or Nina Simone.

Who are you currently reading?

Stacked at my bedside are books by Mahmoud Darwish, Tomas Transtromer, Zbigniew Herbert, Sandor Kanyadi, Chitra Divakaruni, Marie Ponsot, Adam Zagajewski, and Nazim Hikmet. I pick up one of them on any given night. Chitra's novels, of course, I read straight through, but I enjoy going back to favorite passages. I'm especially fond of her The Vine of Desire and the novel that comes before it, Sister of My Heart. I'm staying away from most American poetry at the moment, but not NC poetry. You can read my laureate blog to see that I'm keeping up with that.

If you could share only one piece of advice with other poets, what would it be?

I'll have to go with what Maxine Kumin told me years ago, "You have to be stubborn to make it as a poet." That advice was for a young poet struggling to see her first book published, but I think it still stands. By "making it," I now mean keeping it going, growing, digging in your heels and saying, "Here I am." We are a youth obsessed culture, including our literary culture. But women of a certain age like me must keep on keeping on. Living in the South, being thought "regional" by the literary powers-that-be doesn't help. But it doesn't hurt, if you pay them no mind.

It may seem paradoxical that to keep moving, you dig in your heels and stand your ground, but poetry can deal with those paradoxes. All of art can.

*****

* Check out Kathryn's North Carolina Poet Laureate blog at: http://ncpoetlaureate.blogspot.com/

* Check out Kathryn's personal blog at: http://kathrynstriplingbyer.blogspot.com/

* Learn more about Coming to Rest and LSU Press at: http://www.lsu.edu/lsupress

*****

If you're a poet or publisher interested in an interview on this blog, click here to find out how we might be able to make that happen.

Interview With Poet Justin Marks

Tue, 12 May 2009 02:45:07 GMT

Justin Marks' full-length collection of poems, A Million in Prizes, was recently released by New Issues Poetry & Prose after winning the 2008 New Issues Poetry Prize. His latest chapbook is Voir Dire (Rope-a-Dope Press), and he's the founder and editor of Kitchen Press Chapbooks.

I enjoyed reading both A Million in Prizes and Voir Dire, which is a semi-long poem. Here's one of my favorites from A Million in Prizes:

Matter of Fact

I wanted to create the ocean, the sky,
the intricate structure of a leaf

and thought by now
I'd have come close.

What joy I have in knowing
creation of that sort

doesn't exist.
The world has little

use for me.
Its glare blinds.

How glad I am
for the orbit I inhabit.

A planet to the sun.

*****

What are you up to?

Enjoying being a new dad. Working. Doing some writing here and there. Lining up readings for the spring and fall.

An entire section of your collection A Million in Prizes is one long poem: [Summer insular]. How is writing a long poem different from writing shorter poems?

Writing a long poem, for me, is more comforting than working on shorter poems. Something about knowing I have a large space to work in puts me in a good place emotionally. I mean, I love writing shorter poems, but they generally don't take as long to write and if I don't have anything else I'm working on, I'll start to get real anxious. But lately my short poems are all part of a larger vision/conceptual framework, a book or chapbook, so even when I'm done with an individual poem I know I have a lot more to work on in terms of completing that particular manuscript. It makes me feel more like I'm working on sections of a long poem instead of isolated one night stands, as Spicer called them.

The end of your collection is packed with prose poems. What do you like about the prose poem?

Those poems were a real turning point in my writing. I could sense that I wouldn't be writing too many more poems like the ones from the first section. Not because I didn't like them. It was just that...I don't know...the straight-up, individual lyric poem was starting to feel limiting to me. I was and am proud of the work that’s in the first section of my book, and absolutely stand by it, but in terms of my development it was just time to move on. One of the things a book is to me is in some ways a chart of a person’s development/growth as a writer during the time in which the book was written.

To try and enable that growth for myself I decided that I needed to focus on not caring about the end result and (as much as I possibly could) turn off my inner-critic and just write. One way I was able to make that happen was to not worry about line breaks any more. At the same time, I found myself thinking more in sentences than lines—or maybe more accurately: Thinking about sentences as lines. So that was one thing I liked about prose poems. I was able to sort of pack a lot in and move about in a more relaxed manner than if I were trying to write lineated poems.

Since then I've returned to prose a good bit. A new chapbook manuscript I'm finishing up is all prose. What I hope will be my next book is a series of sonnets, but even with those I keep trying to work prose lines in there somehow to kind of break things up and build some variety into the manuscript.

The poems in A Million in Prizes are all first person narratives. Where do you draw the line between reality and fiction in your poems? Also, what do you like about writing in a confessional voice?

I don't think writing in the first person makes one confessional. My poems in this book—and in general—explore the lyric "I", certainly, but that's totally different than being confessional. I'm not confessing anything. Besides, there are so many problems with that term, even as it has been/is applied to poets like Lowell and Plath and that whole "confessional" crowd—it doesn't feel useful to me.

One of the things I try to do in my work is get an entire self (if such a thing exists) down on the page, so I don't really draw lines between fiction and reality. It's all fiction. And reality. I take from my life whatever is necessary for my work to progress/evolve/change. It potentially gets tricky when I start writing about other people from my life, but so far no one has objected or asked me to not write about them. If they did, though, I'd have to honor that.

Your collection won the 2008 New Issues Poetry Prize, and you're the founder and editor of Kitchen Press Chapbooks. What do you think makes a good collection?

I think about this a lot, and every time I start to approach a conclusion I'm reminded of some book I like that breaks the rules surrounding whatever conclusions I'm approaching. I guess, on a basic level, I think a good collection is one in which the poems become something more than individual poems that are somehow similar in feel and arranged together to make a nice flow. The poems in a good collection are in conversation with each other and form something greater than their parts.

But that definition, for me, is always changing. Over the last few years I've become way more invested in books that are projects or series/serial as opposed to more traditional collections, books that are more akin to Spicer's idea of the serial poem, or are a book length poem, etc. One of my favorite contemporary books is Claudia Rankine's Don't Let Me Be Lonely. The subtitle is An American Lyric. I don't know what that means, or how one might define it except to say, read the book. It's prose, but I'm not sure if it's prose poems. Maybe it's a lyric essay or memoir of some sort. It doesn't really matter. Martha Ronk's Vertigo is another book I enjoy immensely that I think is a little limiting to just call a collection of poems (though it does have individual poems). It's more like a series or cycle of poems.

It’s one of the qualities I look for when I read manuscripts for Kitchen Press. Take Hit Wave, by Jon Leon. I don't know if you've read it, but I'm not really sure what it is: a collection of prose poems? A lyric novella? I could only put it under the rather general category of anti-poetic. And writing I love.

But then there's Old With You, by Lily Brown. I don't think anyone would argue that that isn't your basic collection of somewhat thematically linked, individual poems. But I love that book too.

So I guess what I'm saying is: There are basic qualities that I think make a good collection, but I also really dig work that makes questions just what a collection of poems is/can be. (As an aside, Tarpaulin Sky Press is deeply invested in putting out work that others might not consider to be "poetry.")

Your bio mentions an infant son and daughter. Have they impacted your writing in any way?

They impacted my writing before they were even conceived. I wrote Voir Dire around the time my wife and I were getting serious about trying to get pregnant. There are lots of references to babies in that mini-chapbook. There are also a lot of babies in the two manuscripts I've been working on throughout my wife's pregnancy and since the birth of our son and daughter. In a sense, it's all kind of topical. I never mentioned babies in my work until we started trying to have one/had them. I mean, I'm not writing about my babies as individual people per-se. I don't really write "about" specific people or subjects. Though I suppose there are poems in A Million in Prizes that you could argue are "about" specific subjects. Generally, though, it's not my thing. Anyway. That I'm mentioning babies at all, to me, means my babies have had a significant impact on my writing.

You work as a copywriter. How do the demands of writing copy differ from writing poetry? Also, are there similarities?

Marketing copy has to be concise and to the point, say as much as possible with as few words as possible, and it absolutely has to get and maintain the reader’s attention, even if it is only for a few moments and all you're ultimately saying is "Buy Now". Poetry is like that. (Though there are certainly worthwhile poetries out there that are not at all concerned with the whole maximum-impact-with-minimum-words model.) But I think the most significant similarity is that marketing copy is pretty conceptual. You have to think about all the ways what you're saying can be interpreted and if that fits in with what you want people to take away. For me, with poetry, it's not that I necessarily have a specific idea of what I want people to take away, but I definitely put a lot of time into thinking about how any random stranger out in the world could interpret my writing. In that sense, being a copywriter has made me a much more conscious and aware (I guess "better") poet than if I were in some other profession.

This feels even more true to me when I think about the connections between putting together a marketing campaign and writing a book, or even an extended project that spans across many individual books. You have to really be aware of how each part interacts with the other, whether it's individual ads in a campaign or poems in a book (whether that book be a more traditional collection of individual poems or something more extended/conceptual).

There's also the fact that corporate and marketing lingo is some of the weirdest, most mind-blowing shit I've ever heard. Total goldmine.

But the biggest difference between copywriting and poetry, for me, is that I often feel restricted when writing copy. I may come up with an idea or a line, but so many people above me will have their feedback that I have to find a way to incorporate, and there's also the whole staying on brand and within the voice aspect as well. And that's cool. But poetry, for me, is in large part about freedom. I really don't have anything to lose or gain career-wise with poetry so I feel generally free to do whatever I want. Of course that feeling winds up compromised by various factors and circumstances, as it must, but I'd like to think that that sense of freedom that I try to start from still remains somehow at the core of my poetry.

Who have you been reading recently?

Joe Massey, Eric Baus, Rodrigo Toscano, Jack Spicer, Frank Stanford, Barbara Guest,

Mathias Svalina, Aase Berg, Zach Schomburg, Harper’s Magazine, Wired Magazine, the most recent issue of the Agricultural Reader.

If you could pass on only one piece of advice to fellow poets, what would it be?

I've been given such large heaps of bad advice over the years, I'm hesitant to offer any of my own. So maybe my advice should be, “don’t take any advice.” Then again, I've also gotten some good advice that has often helped sustain me: Trust yourself. Don't let anyone or thing stop you. Be willing to change. Persevere. Stuff like that. That’s my advice.

*****

Check out A Million in Prizes and New Issues Poetry & Prose at www.wmich.edu/newissues.

Check out Voir Dire and Rope-a-Dope Press at http://rope-a-dope-press.blogspot.com.

Check out Justin Marks at his blog: http://justinanselmarks.blogspot.com/.

*****

Are you a publisher or poet interested in a Poetic Asides interview? Then, click here for more details on how to be considered for one.

Interview With Poet Laurel Snyder

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 21:54:48 GMT

Interesting (maybe only to me) story: This interview with Laurel Snyder came about after Laurel responded to one of my "tweets" on Twitter. (By the way, you can follow me there at http://twitter.com/robertleebrewer.) Yes, social networking really can benefit all writers--even (or maybe especially) poets.

In 2007, No Tell Books published Laurel Snyder's collection, The Myth of the Simple Machines. No stranger to publishing, Laurel has published several books with her recent titles for children, including Inside the Slidy Diner (Tricycle Press).

Here's one of my favorite poems from The Myth of the Simple Machines:

The Truth

Listen. My grandmother
died and we burned her

up in a fire but when we
went to dump her ashes
in water--because water
is cool and makes us feel

better--she refused to be
put under. She floated

until my uncle held her down.
He forced her--to swallow the
end and the water to swallow
her body. Then we drove

away quick. Didn't stare
too long at the spot. She was

horrible, my grandmother,
and that's the truth, though
my uncle pretended. "She
was a good old girl, just

the dog done lost her bite."
But no. "But no she

never did," we told him.
If only she had. The witch.
There she was--rising, biting
at us from the very end.

Trying to claw her way to
beyond her welcome, which

died about the time she
began. It's a terrible thing--
hatred. Of family, the dead,
water that isn't heavy enough

to pull things down and keep them.
"I love you," I said to her as she died.

"Yes, but you love lots of people,"
she growled back faintly.
"Not enough," I should've told
her then, "nowhere near."

*****

What are you currently up to?

Tonight? I'm playing a desperate game of catch-up with several little deadlines, eating half a roast beef sandwich, listening for the kids to wake up screaming (which they do EVERY night), and then, at last, going to bed with a copy of Searching for Mercy Street, which is awesome, and totally messing with my head.

You write poetry and children's books. So when you start writing, how do you know you're working on a poem or a children's book?

Hmm. In the beginning, I didn't. Back when I started writing for kids, the genres blended together a lot. Prose poems would become picture books, and stories would turn into poems. Most of them messy and unacceptable to everyone. Nowadays, I have a clearer sense for what I can actually sell as a book for kids. And that tends to limit some of what I'm doing (though I try not to let it). But there's still some back and forth, and lines I snip from my novels often make their way into my poems.

Do you consider yourself a children's book writer who writes poetry, or a poet who writes children's books?

This is a hard question for me right now. Inside myself, I'm a poet. I always have been, pretty much. I think in lines, in forms, and with the kind of attraction to language that we call poetry. But as time goes by, and I do more and more books that aren't poetry, it only makes sense that others will see the poetry as secondary. I haven't stopped writing poems, but a book of poems is a lot harder to sell than anything else in the world. I'm not even sending out my current manuscript.

There's a storytelling element to your poems. Did you grow up around stories?

I think everyone grows up around stories. But I absolutely did, and more than that, I grew up around fables. I'm very interested in mythology, allegory, fairy tale. The idea of narrative as inherently more. I spent a lot of college reading Eastern European poetry, and I think that reinforced my sense of fable as poetry.

How do you handle the submission process?

I don't do a very good job of it lately. I just submitted a poem to an anthology this month, because it was something that I desperately wanted to be part of. But I no longer take a terribly organized aproach to submissions. Partly because my current manuscript is a lot of tiny poems, and they don't work well as stand-alones. So I'm kind of building up the steam to send the book out as a whole. In general though, I try really hard not to submit to magazines I don't actually read. Which means, increasingly, that I submit to online magazines.

What do you feel makes a great poem?

I think a really great poem has two things--a veneer of accesibility (whether narrative structure, playful language, an emotional hook, a huge image, whatever). Something a reader can grab onto. Something that functions as an entry point. And then the requirement for a second/ third/fourth/ fifth read. I'm not interested in work that's only pleasurable or evocative or lyrical. But I also have very little time for work that doesn't grab me.

Who have you been reading recently?

I've been going back to Sexton and Plath, neither of whom (I'm embarassed to say) I've ever read seriously . I loved them in high school, and sort of dismissed them after, BECAUSE I'd loved them in high school. Isn't that silly? As a woman and mother and someone interested in myth and storytelling, this seems insane.

If you could pass on only one piece of advice to fellow poets, what would it be?

Lighten up. The things that matter--like the poems themselves, and the community you build around yourself to support this crazy thing you do--aren't going anywhere just because you don't win a contest or get into a certain magazine or a certain university job. I think the academic world we've pushed poetry into is problematic, and the rewards are easily quantifiable, and that brings a heavyness to the business of writing. Which limits what we write about and how we write. Which is sad. When I had my kids, and stopped teaching adjunct, I kind of gave up on all of that, and I've been happier ever since. Though I do feel like a goof at AWP, with no affiliation to claim. But what can I do--it's a good party!

*****

You can learn more about Laurel Snyder at http://laurelsnyder.com/.

Also, you can check out her publisher, No Tell Books, at http://www.notellbooks.org/.

And, while researching Laurel, I found this interview by my co-worker/boss, Alice Pope at her CWIM blog: http://cwim.blogspot.com/2009/01/blogger-of-week-laurel-snyder.html

*****

If you're a poet or publisher interested in an interview, check this out.

Poetic Forms: Villanelle

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 16:38:58 GMT

(Okay, I'm going to try posting this again. Apparently, this blog is anti-villanelle.)

So, the French form I had not covered yet was not the rondeau, but the villanelle. Oh well. We got a nice rondeau refresher earlier this week. (Check it out here.)

The villanelle, like the other French forms, does have many of the same properties: plenty of rhyme and repetition. This French form was actually adapted from Italian folk songs (villanella) about rural life. One of the more famous contemporary villanelles is "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night," by Dylan Thomas.

The villanelle consists of five tercets and a quatrain with line lengths of 8-10 syllables. The first and third lines of the first stanza become refrains that repeat throughout the poem. It looks like this:

A(1)
b
A(2)

a
b
A(1)

a
b
A(2)

a
b
A(1)

a
b
A(2)

a
b
A(1)
A(2)

Here's an example that I wrote:

Paralegal

Lawyers are not paid to be nice;
they're expected to always win.
She can say it once, say it twice,

"If you want to take their advice,
you should know before you begin:
Lawyers are not paid to be nice."

They have their sin; they have their vice--
some with drink, others with women.
She can say it once, say it twice,

because she's seen every slice--
including both women and men--
"Lawyers are not paid to be nice."

But if you have suffered malice
and do not want to lose again,
she can say it once, say it twice,

"If you want to win, pay the price;
let the legal process begin."
Lawyers are not paid to be nice;
she can say it once, say it twice.

*****

Check out the Wikipedia entry for villanelle by clicking here.

Check out the Poets.org entry for villanelle by clicking here.

*****

Looking for more poetry information?

Check out our poetry titles (on sale in the month of April) HERE.
Read the most recent WritersDigest.com poetry-related articles HERE.
View several poetic forms HERE.
See where poetry is happening HERE.

Interview With Poet Katy Evans-Bush

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 21:08:58 GMT

Since I know this interview is a little on the long side (which is a good thing), I won't spend too much time introducting Katy Evans-Bush, who recently released her first collection of poetry Me and the Dead through Salt Publishing. She also maintains the very popular literary blog Baroque in Hackney.

As I've come to expect from titles published by Salt, Me and the Dead was a very enjoyable read. Here's one of my favorite poems:

Or Something

You told me the universe is doing something.
I forget what: expanding or flapping
in the wind or something--no matter which,
it's only one infinitely possible universe.
It's only ours and imperfect anyway.
Somewhere somebody else's universe
is either expanding, its particles drawing strangely
away from one another as if in horror but still,
I suppose, part of the pack--
or even shrinking (did we consider that?)
which would be caused by the atoms huddling
close for warmth or comfort
against that flapping wind or something;
rubbing together, the friction,
the blanket of static, creating our electric
storms and other interesting diversions.
The universes are, in their multitudes,
unending and also infinitesimal. Some say
they're parallel while others talk of layering.
Oh, the layered universes--I picture them
piled high like feather beds, the feathers inside them
brushing across each other or something.

*****

What are you up to?

Right now? My boyfriend's daughter just took me out for a slap-up lunch (with cheesecake) for my birthday! She's nearly 15 and she earned the money herself, so it was a huge treat.

Other than that, I'm reading up on Oscar Wilde and Henry James for a long poem called (so far) Speculation and Conjecture. It's half done, and I'm thrilled that it's going to be published in January as a pamphlet by Rack Press in Wales.

Then there's the next collection from Salt; they'd like a manuscript by the end of the year.

Then there's this novel idea.

And I'm a bit behind on essays and reviews promised.

Then there's work, kids, laundry, the kitchen…

You maintain a very popular blog at http://www.baroqueinhackney.wordpress.com. How do you feel poets can benefit from having a blog? Also, do you feel all poets should have a blog?

Well… there are maybe three ways in which a poet can benefit from having a blog, but spending time writing blog posts instead of poems probably isn't one of them!

It's a great way to establish a web presence and build a readership. BUT, it is incredibly time-consuming. Really, you need to be doing it for its own sake. You need to have something to say, and be unafraid of saying it. (Yes: I have had fear. Mainly when you realise beyond the shadow of a doubt that the poet you wrote that thing about has just read your blog. It's a great lesson in circumspection. I'd apologise here but that would mean admitting I said it in the first place.)

You also have to be interesting, so that people will come back and read you. This may seem obvious! But there are some very boring blogs out there and they reek of the devoir. (Of course, there are also lots of great ones.) Maybe it's just about looking as if you're interested in things. Humour helps, but deep thinking and being interested go a long way.

Mine is only partially a poetry blog. I say it's about all the same stuff as poetry, which of course includes poetry; but I write about anything. I maintain multiple blog identities: poetry, local neighbourhood, arts & culture, home life anecdotes, certain political issues, and grammar/copy-editing etc.

A blog is a great way to lay out your stall – if you have one to lay out: this is the "having something to say" caveat. You can use your blog to position yourself, identify and deepen your aesthetic (or other) stance, work up material even. You can establish your credentials as someone who can, for example, write reviews; editors might take you more seriously because they can see you are seriously engaged in the cultural dialogue. But this will only work if you really are engaged…

And you have to love your blog. You need to work long and hard at internet-networking, registering on blog directories, reading other blogs and commenting, building up a blogroll you can stand by, getting to know the landscape, working out RSS feeds… It all takes time. I don't want to put anyone off, but I really don't think it is for absolutely everyone and no one should feel they have to write a blog. There are other things you can do to raise profile. If you're just doing it to get a web presence you'll resent it. And if you don't do all that, you won't get the readers anyway so it won't do so much for your web presence. Also: it's a long haul. I've built up my reader base over nearly three years.

The third benefit, of course, is your readers. Mine are wonderful. I'm always amazed by the great comments they leave. Such interesting people; I really think I have the best readers in the world. I love them. And I'd never have had them without writing my blog!

Some of them tell me they've even bought Me and the Dead…

You have lived in both the United States and United Kingdom. Do you notice any differences in the voices coming out of either country?

Well, there's a massive difference! Just as there is in daily conversation, TV, pop music, etc. As Oscar Wilde famously said, two countries divided by a common language. But then, there is a lot of overlap, as demonstrated in crossovers in all those areas.

The UK "voice" is much more wry, ironic, mocking or self-mocking. There's more use of humour. Wit, word play, punning (even the serious papers here have punning headlines as the standard), double entendre – and there is much more metrical rhyming poetry from people who don't consider themselves "formalists." The political divide between "free verse" and "formalist poetry" doesn't exist in the UK. (I think it is a political, not an aesthetic, one; and it's exacerbated now by the fact that a lot of poets write free verse because it's all they know how to do.) Glyn Maxwell is an example of an English poet who writes in form, who isn't a "formalist" poet in the political sense, who has crossed over (as it were) to the USA. Most poets here use rhyme, sometimes, and metre, sometimes, and think nothing of it.

There is a sort of earnestness in the US which does spill, to ill effect, I think, into poetry. It doesn't do in the UK ever to look as if you care too much about something. But then, the UK can suffer from a surfeit of politeness and anecdotalism. You want sweep, too, and America certainly has that.

I love the multiplicity of experience and the opening-out of the more pronounced Modernist influence. I love DA Powell, and Frederick Seidel, for example. As different as they are; they both use words and cadences in really invigorating ways.

My favourite poets come from both sides of the Atlantic; I think either without the other would be much the poorer.

Me and the Dead is your first full-length collection of poetry. How long did it take to get this collection together?

In one sense you could say my whole life, as I've always read, and written, poetry. But I think the oldest poem in there goes back to maybe 2001, maybe 2000, so in that sense it took seven or eight years. The next book won't take nearly so long – partly because there were poems that didn't fit in the first book, and partly because I think I'm on more of a roll these days than I was in 2001 – or, clearly, before. At that stage I was finding my feet in terms of what and how I wanted to write. The fact that the first poem in the book is from 2001 must mean that that's when I started to find my feet.

Were you surprised by anything during the publication process after your manuscript was accepted?

Not really: as I was new to it I had few preconceptions. Also, Salt is a "small" indie press (though they publish many more poetry books than the "big" established ones), so I knew the rules might be different from what you hear about the big publishers. The main surprise I suppose was how closely they worked with me on things like the cover.

What do you think makes a good collection?

Good poems?

Seriously! People talk a lot about narrative arc and all that, and I think it doesn't matter. Why be so prescriptive? Any good book will have engagement with the world. Something to say. Depth, or truth. Either variety or a single idea used well, and fruitfully. Seriousness of purpose – even Ogden Nash had that. It will do what it does, and do it well. It will be surprising and then inevitable, but still surprising.

What is your favorite poetic form?

I don't think I really think in terms of "forms" as much as structure, or the over-arching idea of form. I write a lot of blank – or blankish – verse. And I am very attracted to sonnets, I love the dialectical structure. But I recently wrote something that feels to me like a sonnet and it has thirty dimeter lines, so don't consider me the expert please.

I think "form" is a word we don't really use correctly, anyway. EVERYTHING has form, unless it is "without form and void," like an egg white. I'm not remotely interested in reading a poem like an egg white.

Whatever the rules, whether the poet made them up or even became conscious of them, whichever bits he or she has pulled from the prosodic toolbox, every successful poem must have some sort of structure or form – something the poet decided he or she was trying to do with that poem. You know, a poem that uses only every third letter of the alphabet and has three spaces between each letter has a form.

High Modernism has form. The higher, the higher.

Language poetry and flarf don't interest me overly. Pure chance is just random and not interesting to me. The human brain is designed to seek, and make, and discern, pattern: even when there is no pattern we try to find it. And IQ tests, what they test is our ability to make pattern. Sure, there is value in being able to cope with the unexpected, but the definition of coping would probably be to make it useful in some way: i.e., to find meaning. If something has no meaning it isn't interesting.

And so on. I'm very open about what I enjoy reading, but I'm utterly attached to the idea of meaning.

Who are you currently reading?

James Merrill: I've recently been rereading his Ouija board epic The Changing Light at Sandover, which I always find very beautiful, weird and fruitful. Very funny, and haunting, and deep.

Also Mick Imlah's astonishing and rich The Lost Leader, which has added poignancy since his early death in January; I've particularly been enjoying the final section, Afterlives of the Poets – and it's only in writing it here that I realise it may be on a theme with the Ouija board romance!

I'm just about to write an essay for the Contemporary Poetry Review about Michael Donaghy's Collected Poems and his prose, The Shape of the Dance; so I've naturally been reading those, too.

Then there's Rita Dove's fascinating new book, Sonata Mullatica, featuring a mixed-race 18th century virtuoso and Beethoven, which just arrived in the post… and Roddy Lumsden's new collection, Third Wish Wasted, which is just out… and a young Hungarian poet called Ágnes Lehószky…

Also I memorised one of Shakespeare's sonnets the other week, and loved it. I said it for days. Lovely shapes in the mouth.

And then there's this book about Henry James and Oscar Wilde…

And, er, Twitter…

If you could pass on only one piece of advice to your fellow poets, what would it be?

I'd say, with Henry James: "try to be one of those people on whom nothing is lost."

*****

You can read Katy's blog at http://www.baroqueinhackney.wordpress.com.

Or visit her publisher at www.saltpublishing.com.

*****

Are you a published poet or poetry publisher interested in having an interview featured on this blog? Click here to learn how we might be able to make that happen.

*****

Looking for more poetry information?

Check out our poetry titles (on sale in the month of April) HERE.
Read the most recent WritersDigest.com poetry-related articles HERE.
View several poetic forms HERE.
See where poetry is happening HERE.

Interview with poet Cherryl Floyd-Miller

Thu, 09 Apr 2009 18:42:01 GMT

Earlier this year, Tammy and I took Baby Will with us to his first poetry event, a reading by Cherryl Floyd-Miller at Wordsmiths Books in Decatur, Georgia. Sadly, Wordsmiths has since closed, but Cherryl was nice enough to be interviewed for the Poetic Asides blog.

Her most recent collection of poems, Exquisite Heats, was published in 2008 by Salt Publishing. Cherryl is a native of the Carolinas and has published two other poetry collections: Utterance: A Museology of Kin and Chops. In addition to poetry, Cherryl is also a playwright and fiber artist.

Here's a favorite poem of mine from Exquisite Heats:

Voodoo Chicken

Gots me hanker. Gots me squall, peeping tall-Tom
at your lovely, in your throat, and the itch,
hellcat itch, of it rides me like a witch
into the nights, those crafty nights, no calm
will come. You just a mule teeth puppet show.
Stop and go. Chickenhearted to the core,
you say don't cross the line or crack the door.
How sweetmeat, milk. How navy black. How crow.

But love has stayed and love is made, is all
is with, for. We almost did, just about,
said we (nohow) wouldn't (nungh-ungh) fall.
This moot jinx so far in, it's inside out.
We say we won't. But reckon do. Yak. Stall
for if. Wait for good-good. Gut in. Ass out.

*****

What are you up to?

I am helping a friend build a strong healthcare firm, writing lots of persona poems, finding very interesting ways of writing verse plays and verse narrative ... and (ah, yes) -- quilting. I am truly enjoying this "season" of myself.

You live in the U.S., but your publisher for Exquisite Heats is based in the United Kingdom. How did you go about publishing this collection?

I will have to give credit for my publication through Salt ... to Salt. Chris Hamilton-Emery is an amazing and supportive publisher. He takes the risks others won't take, says the things others won't say and publishes other risk-takers others have not seemed to publish. A poet/scholar friend suggested my work; Chris asked for a manuscript; he liked the work; and we evolved to a contract and a collection of poems. I am deeply grateful for the ways in which Salt shows it believes in me and my *voice*. The faith Chris seems to have in me as an intelligent person and an artist is the kind of faith I've found only one other place: the Fulton County Arts Council in Atlanta and its Deputy Director, Val Porter.

In Exquisite Heats, your work incorporates a variety of poetic forms. Could you speak a little on using poetic forms in your writing?

Ah ... poetic forms. They are helpful play things; by that, I mean it has aided my poem-building skills tremendously to be knowledgeable about forms and make conscious decisions about using them in my work. I've found the most gifted and compelling poets to be those who know the rules and deliberately break them in order to keep their own voices intact. At this stage in my own evolution, the use of forms is both conscious and subconscious. Most of the time I know exactly what I've done after I've done it; but I'm at my best when I don't know what I'm doing while I'm doing it. Poetic forms for me are a good musical instrument to ensure this "band" called my body of work can jam as long and hard as it likes. But I'll be a traitor and leave the forms on the side of the stage if the poem instructs me to do so. Forms come often in my work, but I'm not a slave to them. My only allegiance is to the poem.

Do you use critique groups—or a network of other poets—to help with early drafts of poems?

I don't use critique groups as much as I used to about five to eight years ago. I have trusted eyes and ears who can hear new drafts at any time of the day and give me honest feedback. Usually, these are writers who have known me and my work for a long time and have earned my respect and trust. I'm not closed to critique groups, but I am leery of group dynamics and individual dramas that can be a bit distracting to the purpose of gathering: work.

In your bio for Exquisite Heats, it’s mentioned that you’ve received several grants and fellowships for your writing. Any application tips for other poets who may apply for grants or fellowships?

Yes ... apply. It may sound strange to give this as advice, but many people don't even fill out the application and wonder why they can't get grants. Other tips:

1) Be sure you really want it. Don't apply just for the money. Make sure your values align with the org or individual who is awarding the money, and make sure you believe in what the grant asks of you.

2) Apply again, if you don't get an award the first time you apply. Sometimes, missing a grant or fellowship has nothing to do with your talent or your perfect application. It has to do with timing, the number of other talented applicants and whether or not you come across as credible on paper.

3) Do what the grantors ask. This means meet deadlines, do the accompanying essay, and have a solid plan to do what you say you're going to do with the money. Having been both a grant recipient and a grant reviewer, I can truly say, if you're not sincere, it comes through loud and clear that you're not sincere.

Your bio mentions you’re a fiber artist. In what forms of fiber arts do you work?

I am a quilter who uses techniques of collage, crochet, knitting and mixed media formats. I have no formal training in any of this. I learned quilting at my paternal grandmother's feet at age 7. I learned crochet from my maternal grandmother at age 9. I've experimented with everything else enough to be *confident* about what I create. I explore the same themes in fiber art as I do in poetry: women, the South, folklore, sound music in language, myths, non-linear structures and magical realism. Much of the way I approach art is really about not wasting a single thing. Even the words you cut from a poem or the scraps you create when you cut the fabric of a quilt can be used somewhere else.

Who are you currently reading?

Two voices I think many of us have forgotten: Dolores Kendrick and Sherley Anne Williams. I am also reading a variety of modern verse plays because I'm curious about what others are doing with the form.

If you could pass on only one piece of advice for other poets, what would it be?

Write! And then write some more. When you feel like you truly (((can))) *quit* writing, then you should quit ...

*****

To learn more about Cherryl's collection Exquisite Heats and her publisher Salt Publishing, go to www.saltpublishing.com.

*****

Are you a poet or publisher looking for free publicity? Then, check out what you need to do to be considered for a Poetic Asides interview by clicking here.

Interview With Poet Denise Duhamel

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 19:19:19 GMT

(Note to prompt-hungry poets: This is not a prompt; please don't mistakenly post your poems for prompts into the comments of this blog post.)

Okay, so I know everyone's busy with writing poems for the April PAD Challenge and reading everyone else's poems, but I've got a great interview with a great poet burning a hole in my pocket. So, I'm gonna go ahead and post it here.

I remember first reading Denise Duhamel's Queen for a Day (University of Pittsburgh Press) while flying from one place to another. I can't remember which trip now, but maybe that's because while I was in the plane (both ways), I was sucked into Duhamel's poems. Anyway, I recently learned about her most recent collection Ka-Ching! (also University of Pittsburgh Press) and used that as an excuse to interview her.

There are many great poems in Ka-Ching!, but one of my favorites is this sestina:

Delta Flight 659
--to Sean Penn

I'm writing this on a plane, Sean Penn,
with my black Pilot Razor ballpoint pen.
Ever since 9/11, I'm a nervous flyer. I leave my Pentium
Processor in Florida so TSA can't x-ray my stanzas, penetrate
my persona. Maybe this should be in iambic pentameter,
rather than this mock sestina, each line ending in a Penn

variant. I convinced myself the ticket to Baghdad was too expensive.
I contemplated going as a human shield. I read in open-
mouthed shock, that your trip there was a $56,000 expenditure.
Is that true? I watched you on Larry King Live--his suspenders
and tie, your open collar. You saw the war's impending
mess. My husband gambled on my penumbra

of doubt. So you station yourself at a food silo in Iraq. What happens
to me if you get blown up? He begged me to stay home, be his Penelope.
I sit alone in coach, but last night I sat with four poets, depending
on one another as readers, in a Pittsburgh cafe. I tried to be your pen
pal in 1987, not because of your pensive
bad boy looks, but because of a poem you'd penned

that appeared in an issue of Frank. I still see the poet in you, Sean Penn.
You probably think fans like me are your penance
for your popularity, your star bulging into a pentagon
filled with witchy wanna-bes and penniless
poets who waddle toward your icy peninsula
of glamour like so many menancing penguins.

But honest, I come in peace, Sean Penn,
writing on my plane ride home. I want no part of your penthouse
or the snowy slopes of your Aspen.
I won't stalk you like the swirling grime cloud over Pig Pen.
I have no scripts or stupendous
novel I want you to option. I even like your wife, Robin Wright Penn.

I only want to keep myself busy on this flight, to tell you of four penny-
loafered poets in Pennsylvania
who, last night, chomping on primavera penne
pasta, pondered poetry, celebrity, Iraq, the penitentiary
of free speech. And how I reminded everyone that Sean Penn
once wrote a poem. I peer out the window, caress my lucky pendant:

Look, Sean Penn, the clouds are drawn with charcoal pencils.
The sky is opening like a child's first stab at penmanship.
The sun begins to ripen orange, then deepen.

*****

What are you currently up to?

I am teaching, giving a lot of readings, and writing at least 5 minutes a day. That was my resolution for 2008. I thought I can always find five minutes, right? Even if it's in the morning before coffee or before I fall asleep.

Sean Penn won another Best Actor Oscar recently for his role in Milk. As someone who's written a sestina for Penn, what is your favorite Sean Penn role?

My favorite Sean Penn role is actually Brad Whitewood, Jr. in the movie At Close Range. Penn plays Christopher Walker's son.

It seems that I see your name all over the place when reading online literary journals. Do prefer publication in online or print? Does the medium even matter?

I'm open to online magazines as well as print magazines. I am a fetishist when it comes to paper, so I like holding literary journals in my hands, but I also am excited by the idea of having work up online. More people see it that way and, even though the work is on a flickering screen, it somehow seems more permanent.

How do you handle the process of submitting your work?

I have some magazines that I really love and send to often. So I send to those places as well as new start up magazines. I am all about supporting the smallest of mags as that is where my poems were first published when no one else wanted them.

How do you go about putting your collections together?

My friend Stephanie Strickland reads though stacks of poems and helps me find the most accomplished ones and then we start looking for themes. She helped me enormously with Ka-Ching!

In Ka-Ching!, you use form a lot--from sestinas to prose poems in the shape of money. How important do you feel forms are to a developing (or even established) poet? Also, do you think they serve a purpose for the reader?

I resisted traditional form for a long time—I had a sonnet in my first book and then it was free verse and prose poems pretty much until Two and Two. I started feeling comfortable with form because of my collaborations with Maureen Seaton who is a master/mistress of the sonnet. When I wrote forms with her, I finally "got" how they were very freeing and fun. I think it's important for me to challenge myself and change and not get too comfortable in my poetry.

In Ka-Ching!, you include many confessional poems that involve yourself, your husband (the poet Nick Carbo), and others. In your confessional poems, do you draw a line between reality and fiction? And if so, how do you determine where to make that line fuzzy?

I don't really draw the line so much. I love poetry because it is about memory and the way I remember things change and forms of poetry force me to change the story and my way of remembering.

Who (or what) are have you been reading recently?

Ed Falco's In the Park of Culture (short fictions), Bust (magazine subscription), NOR #5 (literary magazine), 5 a.m. #28 (literary magazine), and Mary Jane Ryals' The Moving Waters (poetry.)

If you could pass on only one piece of advice to fellow poets, what would it be?

Read everything! Be open to everything. Trust your process.

*****

To find out more about Duhamel and Ka-Ching!, try visiting the University of Pittsburgh Press website at http://www.upress.pitt.edu.

Interview With 2008 Poetic Asides Poet Laureate Sara Diane Doyle

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 14:21:27 GMT

Quick note: I plan on sharing the complete rules, how-to's, advice, etc., on the 2009 April PAD Challenge tomorrow right here on the blog. There's no special registration required--so just check back in tomorrow to get the full scoop on what's expected.

*****

Okay, so one of the cool things about the 2008 April PAD Challenge is that I was able to select a Poetic Asides Poet Laureate. It was a tough decision last year, but Sara Diane Doyle shared some truly great poems through the month. See the announcement (and read some of here April poems) by clicking here.

She even shared a new poetic form with the group after the challenge was over called The Roundabout. You can check out that poetic form by clicking here.

Anyway, she recently let me interview her to see what she's been up to and to share advice with poets new to the April PAD Challenge.

*****

What've you been up to since being named the 2008 April PAD Challenge Poet Laureate?

You mean besides enjoying life in Colorado? Well, I've spent the last year mentoring teen writers, including challenging them with a 12-week poetry project last fall. In November, I wrote a novel with National Novel Writing Month. As of January, I've been focusing on submitting my work, both poetry and prose, to markets.

Who (or what) have you been reading recently?

In 2008, I read 100 books, so I had the chance to read a lot of great writers, including: N.M. Kelby, C.S. Lewis, Alice Hoffman, Madeleine L'Engle, Jane Austen, Garth Nix, and Billy Collins. This year, I'm taking it easier. My current favorites are Jim Butcher's Dresden Files, and my favorite poetry collection of the last few months is Billy Collins' Ballistics. Much of my reading time goes to reading the writings of the teenagers on the forum where I mentor.

How did you manage to write so many good poems throughout the month of April last year?

I don't have a secret recipe, if that's what you're asking! But I know that the more I'm thinking about poetry, the more I'm reading it and writing it, the better I seem to get. So being able to read the poems others were posting helped--it kept spurring me on to better poetry! Also, having the prompts helped a lot. Normally, I have one good poem every so often, largely because I wait to be hit with a great idea. But having a starting point helped get those ideas going. I also tried my hardest to find a different angle on the prompt each day. For example, on day one, when the prompt was to write about "firsts," I saw many poems about first love, first kiss, first child, etc. So I said to myself, "what is a first no one else has written about yet?" That's how I came up with the idea to write about the first time I donated blood. I love to find the tiny, hidden subjects. And if it makes anyone feel better, I had some real clunkers last year--they STILL make me cringe when I read them. So don't try to write 30 amazing poems, write 30 good poems and some of them will be amazing.

Any big plans or goals for 2009?

My goal this year is to get published. So I'm sending out submissions of both poetry and short stories on a regular basis. I'd also like to finish my current novel. And maybe learn another language. I like to have fun goals, and some that I know I can reach with a little effort. Unreachable goals aren't helpful at all.

What's the best piece of advice you've ever been given? And by who?

There are two that vie for first place. The first was "celebrate rejection." My high school creative writing teacher, Mrs. Warner, made this a huge part of our class--she threw a party for the first rejection slip, and really taught me how to embrace the more negative part of the writing life. Rejection is part of the writing business, and if you can't deal with it, or if you take it too personally, it's going to kill you. So I celebrate every rejection I earn--earning a rejection means I'm putting my work out there, and that's how I will get published.

The second is from one of my favorite authors, Jodi Picoult. Her advice: "You can't edit a blank page." That statement has gotten me writing more times than not. A blank page can be intimidating, and I know how easy it is to give into the white space. Sometimes, we are afraid for writing crap, afraid of what will come out, afraid it will be true, etc. But we can't do anything with that fear. We can't edit it, we can't cut out the bad parts, we can't make it better. But if we are willing to write, to fill the blank page, then we can move forward. Most writers aren't brilliant in the first draft. We all have to just get the words down. Once we've done that, it's much easier to make things better!

Do you have any advice for the poets who are entering the 2009 April PAD Challenge?

Yes! Get up and read the prompt early each day. Get it into your head. Then take some time to see it from all sides before you write. Some days, an idea will jump out right away, but some days it might take until nine at night. Don't be afraid to let the idea brew for a while! Pull out all the old tools you were taught in grade school: alliteration, meter, imagery, similes, metaphors, symbolism. Put them to good use. Try some new forms, even if the prompt doesn't call for it. I often use www.shadowpoetry.com as a resource, they list all sorts of poetic forms.

Then, just write. Get it out. Remember, you can edit it later.

And most of all, have fun! I had a blast last year, and I'm looking forward to this year's prompts. Let your friends and family know what you are doing, let them read some of your work. Be excited about poetry!

Interview With Poet Patricia Fargnoli

Thu, 26 Mar 2009 21:07:12 GMT

It's not every day that I get an opportunity to interview a former poet laureate. So when I was afforded the chance to read Patricia Fargnoli's Duties of the Spirit (Tupelo Press), I jumped at the chance to interview the former New Hampshire Poet Laureate (her term ended earlier this year).

Though Fargnoli is a retired psychotherapist, she just published her first collection of poems Necessary Light (Utah State University Press) in 1999. And has made her presence felt in the poetry community in a very short period of time with another full-length collection and chapbook in the same 10-year span. Oh yeah, Fargnoli is also in the final stages of publishing another collection with Tupelo Press.

Here's one of my favorites (I have many) from Duties of the Spirit:

The Undeniable Pressure of Existence

I saw the fox running by the side of the road
past the turned-away brick faces of the condominiums
past the Citco gas station with its line of cars and trucks
and he ran, limping, gaunt, matted dull haired
past Jim's Pizza, past the Wash-O-Mat
past the Thai Garden, his sides heaving like bellows
and he kept running to where the interstate
crossed the state road and he reached it and ran on
under the underpass and beyond it past the perfect
rows of split-levels, their identical driveways
their brookless and forestless yards,
and from my moving car, I watched him,
helpless to do anything to help him, certain he was beyond
any aid, any desire to save him, and he ran loping on,
far out of his element, sick, panting, starving,
his eyes fixed on some point ahead of him,
some possible salvation
in all this hopelessness, that only only he could see.

*****

What are you currently up to?

On March 22, I finished my 3 1/2-year term as New Hampshire's Poet Laureate. And my new book, Then, Something, which is due to be published in fall by Tupelo Press, is at the publishers and soon to go into production. We've already decided on the cover. I've also recently finished work with two private tutorial students...all of which should mean that I could rest a while, and, hopefully, turn my energies toward writing new work. But March's calendar is full of readings I want to attend and lunches with poet/friends and teaching my private class. And April's only a little freer. The last week in April and the beginning of May I'm going to The Dorset Writer's Colony in Vermont for a week (and would go longer if I didn't have a cat and no one for him to live with in my absence). In June, I'm teaching at an Elderhostel for a week, and leading an Ekphrasis workshop in July and a workshop for Teachers in August. In between, I'm giving a couple of readings....and will be working at proofreading my manuscript for the press...and writing a reader's guide. Whew! Would you believe I've been "retired" for 10 years now?

You've just recently finished up a stint as New Hampshire's Poet Laureate. What were your duties? Were you able to accomplish everything you wanted?

As poet laureate, I had no official duties. Some poet laureates do a little or nothing; some do a lot. I like that what I did was left entirely up to me so that I could use the skills and interests I have in the way I wanted to. I'd decided from the outset that I wanted to do something for children, something for libraries and something for New Hampshire poets. And I'm proud that I accomplished all three. With the support of the NH State Library, The Writer's Project and the NH Council on the Arts, I was able to recruit 43 poet-volunteers from around the state, and to organize a "Children's Poetry Day in the Libraries Day" the first April after I was elected. The Governor issued a proclamation proclaiming April 14th as statewide "Children's Poetry Day;" and each volunteer put on a program for children in a library near him/her. We published articles in almost every regional magazine promoting the importance of poetry in children's lives and served about 350 children and parents on that day.

I also initiated (again with the help of Art Council personnel) a "New Hampshire Poets Showcase" link to the Arts Council website. Every two weeks we featured a new NH poet with a poem, bio, photo, links and a paragraph about how their poem came to be.

I also did readings and workshops around the state and attended civil functions occasionally. And I delivered a poem at the Governor's Inauguration.

When I look back at what I accomplished I'm amazed that I could do it. I had reservations about accepting the position in the beginning because of some chronic health problems that have limited my mobility and energy. But I'm glad I didn't turn it down; the position was life-enriching. I made many friends and have some wonderful memories.

When and why did you begin publishing poetry?

I began writing and studying poetry seriously when I was in my mid-30's in a graduate class with Brendan Galvin at Central CT State University. Along with 7 other women who became my close friends (and are to this day), I took the class for several years. My first poems were published in Tendril (which has been gone for years) and Poet Lore. In fact, Brendan sent out my work to Tendril without telling me and when, one of the poems was accepted, he called me from his vacationing on Cape Cod to give me the news.

I was hooked. I've always loved poetry and had written it earlier...publishing in the high school newspaper etc., but I knew nothing then about contemporary poetry and the only two poets' names I was familiar with were Sylvia Plath and Robert Lowell. However, it was many years later, when I was 62, that I published my first book, Necessary Light, after Mary Oliver chose it as the May Swenson Award winner.

The "why" is harder to explain. Besides the love of poetry, there's the challenge of getting what can't be easily said into words; the thrill of connecting in a deep way to readers, the adrenaline rush when you open an acceptance letter and the way writing a poem can somehow make sense of your life.

Do you have any method to where and when you submit your poems?

Hmmm. I usually submit about 3 times a year....in late September, January, and maybe June (to those journals that accept summer submissions). But this isn't rigid and if I have some poems I want to send out and have the time, I'll send them. I have a list of journals I'd like to have my poems in...a rather long list. Over the years, I've subscribed to many of them and I know what kind of work they take. I believe strongly that poets shouldn't be expecting editors to publish them if they, themselves, aren't supporting the work of presses, literary journals, and other poets.

I only occasionally do simultaneous submissions because it's hard to keep track of them. But I do them more lately because I am 71 and time is passing far too quickly...I can't afford to wait a year to hear results anymore...especially since the competition is so fierce and rejection so frequent. And when I do submit simultaneously, I don't send to more than 3 journals at a time, or to journals that don't accept them. But other than that, I have no specific method.

Duties of the Spirit (Tupelo Press) won the Jane Kenyon Poetry Book Award and your first collection Necessary Light (Utah State University Press) won the May Swenson Book Award. What do you think makes a good collection?

Oh Robert, it is so, so subjective! I've several times been a judge or early-round judge of a book competition so I've read hundreds of manuscripts and I can tell what impresses me....though it probably would be different for someone else. At the top of my list is "Vision." I mean that the book presents the poet's unique way of looking at the world....some fragment of the whole. And the poems must "matter" and, when taken together, seem like a cohesive whole (even though there may be single poems that are different from most of the others)....I don't have patience with the superficial or pretentious language that reveals nothing when you look under it. I look for depth. Craft matters to me greatly. And once I gave top prize to a book (a novel in verse) mainly because I fell in love with the "voice" of the protagonist. (He was an ironic everyman.) Of course, the craft was impeccable too.

What do you look for in a good poem?

Depth, beauty, spirit, craft, sound, humanity. Sometimes fracturing and remaking of reality, so that I as a reader can see a thing newly. Some news to help me understand my own life and its meaning.

In Duties of the Spirit, you deal with nature and aging--even confronting death. These topics are big and well-traveled, yet you make them your own. I'm sure part of your success comes back to revision. So, how much time do you commit to revision? And how do you know a poem is done?

Revision is, for me, the process by which a poem comes into being. My early drafts are terrible. I often overwrite pushing myself past all the voices in my head that say "Ugh" just in order to get words onto the page where they can be worked at. I then will do maybe 3 or 4 quick revisions and put it away for at least a few days. Then I work at it again. If I can get it into what begins to feel to me like a poem and I'm as far as I can go, I'll bring it to one of my workshops (there are 2; one of them is online). That usually results in another revision. I have what I call my "WP file," which stands for "Working Poems." The revised draft (if I'm still not satisfied which is usually the case) goes into that file...and periodically, I'll pull it up and work some more.

In later drafts, often, I'm picking at single words, or perhaps upping the ante on a phrase that feels flat...or experimenting with shifting the order around or changing line-breaks...that kind of thing. I've often worked this way on a poem for years before I'm satisfied...if I ever am. And even when I send out a poem, I'll later revise it... or even after it's published. I don't know when a poem is done....it's mostly just let go.

I think of revision as being like a sculptor with a block of marble. The poet chips and chips away at the poem until the real poem (hopefully) emerges from the block of words.

Who (or what) have you been reading recently?

I read poetry every day...and not just a little. I have 7 bookcases (3 of them tall ones) in my 2 room apartment and they are all filled with books of poetry. I spend more on poetry than I do on anything else except food and rent. Currently on my bedstand (which means I'm reading them) are: Robert Hass Time and Materials (which I'm reading for the second time); Mary Oliver's New Evidence; Louise Gluck's Averno (also reading for the 2nd time); Borges This Craft of Verse; Rebecca Seiferle, Bitters; BAP, Charles Wright, ed; Henri Coles, Blackbird and Wolf; Charles Bennett's How to Make a Woman Out of Water; Ruth Stone's What Love Comes to; The Making of A Sonnet, Edward Hirsch and Eavan Boland; Dante's Divine Comedy; and the current issues of several journals: The Georgia Review, Shenandoah,The Harvard Review and The American Poetry Journal.

On order are Ann Fisher-Wirth's Carta Marina and Jack Gilbert's new book (which I've forgotten the name of).

If you could offer only one piece of advice to your fellow poets, what would it be?

Read, read, read, and support other poets, publishers and the poetry community.

*****

To learn more about Patricia Fargnoli, check out her website at www.patriciafargnoli.com.

Skeltonic Poetry: Short, sweet and fun

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 14:36:29 GMT

Skeltonic verse is named after the poet John Skelton (1460-1529), who wrote short rhyming lines that just sort of go on from one rhyme to the next for however long you wish to take it. Most skeltonic poems average less than six words a line, but keeping the short rhymes moving down the page is the real key to this form.

Here's my attempt at one:

"My weekend with Tammy"

We perused
all the shoes
in Syracuse
and then cut my hair
until little was there,
and everyone stared,
though I didn't care--
more focused on wining
and elegant dining
with Tammy opining
she'd rather go mining
in the mountains for coal;
so we had a new goal,
but somebody stole
our beautiful car
delivered from Mars
(made from old stars
after the alien wars);
instead, we decided to sit
and not throw a fit
or pout or spit
(our plan already quit)
at the crowded park
where we waited 'til dark
for the invisible balloon
to carry us soon
to the crescent moon
where we'll live until June.

Some poetic forms (updated list)

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 13:04:09 GMT

In anticipation of National Poetry Month, here are some poetic forms to investigate and/or play with. I know forms can seem a little intimidating for some, but they can often lead you to unexpected destinations with your writing.

I hope you have fun playing around with these forms. My personal faves are the triolet, sestina and shadorma.

Poets Helping Poets: What comes first? Poem or collection?

Sun, 15 Mar 2009 15:41:03 GMT

I've received differing answers from poets over the past year about what comes first when putting a collection together. Do they settle on a theme and write poems to fit the theme? Or do they write individual poems and then try to fit them together? Some poets say they do it one way; some the other; some do both (also known as the By-Any-Means-Necessary Method).

Anyway, I asked the Poetic Asides group on Facebook, and once again, so many great answers piled in that I couldn't use them all.

*****

I worry about the book element after the poems are written. Assembling poems for a collection means trying to get a thread running through them that helps them to connect to each other, or lean on other for meaning and content.

Of course, it's easier if you have sequences of poems: their running order is easier to organise, because they have a cohering quality that allows them to stand alone. But you still have the problem of what you put beforehand and what comes afterwards - because the outside poems have to be able to stand up to those sequences: not be overshadowed by the strength of the coherance of that sequence.

Barbara Smith

*****

I have done both. Generally I just write and then something evolves.

David Fraser

*****

Ordering the Storm is a collection of essays by respectable poets on that very topic. I recommend people check it out. Everyone tells you to front load and back load to wow the judges in contests and that's what I did with my first book. When I learned the book was invited to be in the VQR Poetry Series and no longer needed to pass the screen test, I reorganized the first half drastically. Now the poems form a progression and, I'd like to believe, the voice and narrative thread each together collectively.

Allen Braden

*****

My first collection, You Beckon, was put together from the poems written over an extended period of time. So the poems dictated the collection. It was amazing how once the process began it seemed to take on a life all its own and every poem seemed to find its exact perfect spot.

Peggy Eldridge-Love

*****

Charles Olson once told Ed Dorn something like, “If you study one thing deeply, you will learn everything.” Some of the premises being that everything is connected and that extreme concentration will enable you to think as the subject thinks. Dorn followed Olson’s advice and ended up with the great collection of poems called Gunslinger.

I learned about studying one thing before I knew of Olson telling that to Dorn. After I read what Olson told Dorn, I followed the advice more passionately. But for me it’s a bit different. Yes, I can see the interconnectedness of things, and the focus of studying one thing presents an amazing clarity of a sustained thinking process. But for me, as I said, it’s a bit different. For me, it’s about sustaining energy and imagination.

I’ve seven collections of poetry, three of which are published and one is forthcoming. They are all tightly themed. And that is because I stuck to the topic. The topic, for me, creates the energy to write. The topic continually stimulates my imagination. The topic is the muse. And I chase the muse whenever and wherever I can until I’m tired. In this last book, it was about 80 poems over a year until I was tired. I imagine I will pick it up again, because the content does seem endless.

But here’s the point: the theme/topic is the sustenance of my writing. And once it is gone, so is the writing.

Plus, I’m stubborn. While composing this most recent book, I wouldn’t write any poems that didn’t relate to the topic. The same is true of the other books. I wouldn’t veer. One book revolved around cosmology and particle physics and took about four or five years to write. One book fed off the energies of a Lorca poem for about five years. One book fed off a self-created writing assignment for about a month, and then revisions. One lasted for about a half year as I created a world where time moves backwards. One lasted about three or four years as I created a new mythology. One lasted about a year as I was proclaiming love. And this last one lasted about year, though really nineteen or twenty, and I still think there is another five years in it.

So, yeah. I compose by theme. Theme motivates, focuses, and stimulates me. Theme creates visions. Theme is the thing that let’s me confront the big issues, like love, death, and time, but indirectly, which is the only way one can confront those big topics today.

Theme gives me purpose.

Tom Holmes

*****

For me, the idea of a collection comes from a small selection of poems already written -- poems which, when looking back on them (ie to find places to submit them to etc) have a similar voice or touch on complementary themes. My poetry play, "Dreams of May," very much developed from the realization that I had created a character via my poems. But now, I am working on a collection that is more theme driven, and although it is starting from some previously written and published poems, it is continuing with new ones I am writing with that theme in mind. Otherwise, I suppose the answer to your question is "yes, all of the above"

Sue Guiney

*****

I have a chapbook (published) and two full size manuscripts. I put them all together with poems I had written already. It's the following my passion approach.

I'm keeping this email short. I don't know how people decide what they are going to write about and then create a book. Lots of poets do this, but I have to write what comes and then after I have a few hundred poems see what it looks like and begin to put it together. As I send out my current manuscripts I revise and continually rework poems. I am now getting edit feedback, new eyes to look at my two full size manuscripts in process, to see if I can edit them to a better book. I'd like my next publication to be a full size, but I also have chapbook sizes circulating. One chapbook was recently a finalist but didn't quite make it.

Julene Tripp Weaver

*****

Generally I write poems one at a time and later see how I can arrange them. But in all honesty, I find assembling a collection much harder than writing a poem, primarily because I feel there’s a contradiction between something being a "collection" and expecting to find in it a necessary sequence. This need for sequence or cohesion seems to be a variation on the insistence for narrative, which I don't really have an interest in. So I find myself torn between a cohesion so obvious it borders on monotony and a cohesion so subtle I can't imagine anyone else perceiving it. At this point I tend to throw up my hands and say, they are related because they all came from the same mind, it's inescapable. They're like a series of stepping stones; their relationship is simply that they all happen to be in the same river.

Two poets come to mind pondering this topic: Richard Wilbur and Louise Gluck. I remember Wilbur being asked how he assembled his collections and he said, essentially, that he didn't give it much thought. It was a collection. I envied his insouciance, since now, it seems, publishers expect thematic progression in poetry collections. To that end, Louise Gluck's collection, "Wild Iris," which won the Pulitzer, always struck me as great in its thematic cohesion, in its progressive development, but weak in its individual poems. I remember thinking after reading it, I would rather my individual poems be great though my collection lacked thematic cohesion.

Michael T. Young

*****

I've had two collections - one pamphlet and one full. In both cases I arranged the poems after they had been written. I didn't have an idea of how the final collections would look as I didn't know that they would be published. I'm still writing about whatever presents itself.

Maggie Sawkins

*****

I do both really. I have a couple of themes I like to write about, but I also write one-offs that have nothing to do with anything!

Paul De La Plante

*****

I do it both ways. That's the short answer.

Pris Campbell

*****

Ever since I began to really consciously develop my own poetics I have written with the design of the complete book in mind. Perhaps this is a Mallarme influence. For Mallarme, there is only one cosmic book, and each book is merely a reading or commentary on "the one true text"... and which, I imagine, is written in an ideal language (something like Benjamin's Messianic language perhaps, and hence, ultimately a language we no longer understand). I wrote a book length poem over a period of ten years, and then for the past ten years have written books usually composed of two or more long hybrid sequences.

Eric Selland

*****

It really does depend on the muse I think. For example, I'm currently finishing one manuscript and editing two that were done all at once on the same theme. As one thought led into the next so did each poem BUT I'm also editing four other manuscripts that are collections on a theme scattered across years (up to a decade). If the theme is one, I'm more inclined to I obviously write more of it than any other and will do that one in succession more readily (and the same goes for if the theme is a certain format ie sonnet, free verse, prose, etc).

Ronda Wicks Eller

*****

It is quite difficult to explain. I work mostly from a feeling, almost never from an idea. I say that I am always writing the same and endless poem. I meet the poems once written. What prevails is the intuition. There are exceptions: I once worked as a title or subject, with some success or not. I remember a book from the letters of Rimbaud in Africa. This project survived two or three poems that I included in a book.

Carlos Barbarito

*****

Both. Sometimes one way, sometimes the other, and sometimes both at the same time. Right now I'm working in a fully conceptualized project, but the last one had a coherent section that took up about a third of the book, with the rest taken from work done over the same two years.

Christopher Flynn

*****

I make collections after I've written the poems. To start out with an idea about a collection would shape my creative process differently than allowing myself to write each day with whatever is in front of me that prompts a poetic response (and I do write every morning, so this is not a discipline question). This way, I find that threads in my work that surprise me and keep me interested. This is not to say that I would be opposed to trying it the other way around in the future.

Kathleen Cassen Mickelson

*****

I do it both ways, depending on how the poems come to me. I am but the slave of the muse!

Jeffrey Spahr-Summers

*****

I've only done one chap/collection called Book of Aliases. I wanted to get readership on my old poems so I went through my blog archives and picked what I thought were some of the best and strongest. I had a huge amount of them and they were all over the place in terms of themes. As I was trying to sort them into piles I realized that one of the interesting things I had been considering in my writing was the idea that we all are constantly shifting from one presentation of ourselves to another -- something similar to having several aliases. Once I had that as a concept for a collection, I was able to pick 57 of my older poems that could be grouped under that theme and the book became easy to assemble.

Russell Ragsdale

*****

Most of the poetry I write tends to be the quirky, offbeat, humorous kind. After a number of my pieces were published in journals, I started working with an idea about how I'd like to organize them and finally did it in my first poetry book (and first book, too) Mugging for the Camera. I found it was a lot easier to work with a central theme of an idea, even if it was kind of loosely based.

RJ Clarken

*****

I look to see what I've been writing for the last 2 years, decide whether it's a subject or a tone or what, and then include and exclude to make a unified whole.

Then I throw all the poems on the floor, arrange them into three piles or sections, and arrange the poems within the sections. I have never written a poem FOR a collection, but I know many fine poets who do.

I'm talking about collections of individual poems, of course. My three book-length verse narratives have stories to organize them.

Penelope Scambly Schott

Poets Helping Poets: Breaking through a writing slump

Mon, 09 Mar 2009 21:51:22 GMT

Last Friday, I tossed out a question to the members of the Poetic Asides group on Facebook: How do you break through a writing slump?

Whether it's been days, weeks, months, or even years, we've all been through dry spots. Well, as I learned from the response, most of us have anyway.

In my own case, I find that reading new (to me) voices is what helps the most. Though listening to the news or going for a run, both usually work as well.

The response was so massive that I had to be selective with the answers, but here's what some of the poets wrote:

*****

For some reason, I find if I have a few even modest successes, sometimes that spooks me and makes it hard for me to believe I'll ever write anything worthwhile again. After a number of false starts, I find myself going back to some old reliable pump primers, as I've come to think of them.

Actually, someone on the Poetic Asides site led me to the Poet's Companion, by Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux, and I've found the exercises in there invaluable. I also love Natalie Goldberg's, Writing Down the Bones and this year she released The Essential Writer's Notebook--another gem of inspirational prompts to kick my rear-end.

For me, your prompts are also a great source of creative energy--a way for me to know I'm committed to writing poetry at least once a week, without having to dream up a topic.

And last, but not least, I try to take at least one writing course a year, just to make my mind travel along different tracks.

S.E. Ingraham

*****

Here are two strategies that work for me:

1. Go to a reading--any kind of reading, poetry or prose. The minute a reading begins, I feel that I'm being drawn "into the zone," into a community of writers that helps me reconnect with my own creativity. It's as if my writer's mind steps into line, comes into focus, re-invents and re-establishes itself.

2. Go for a long hike--in a natural setting, away from the house, the computer, the daily grind. As I walk, and gradually relax, the rhythm of unrestricted movement enables me to reconnect with the natural cadence of my poetic sensibility.

Ruth Nolan

*****

It works for me when I have people around me. Therefore, I am longing for the spring so that I can go out and sit in a nice park, with trees and flowers and hear people walking by.

Staffan in Sweden

*****

I used to believe in writing slumps and writer's blocks. But I don't anymore, because if you can challenge yourself to the simple task of writing something every day, say at least 500-600 characters (but more is better) or 125-175 words minimum (again, more is better). You could further challenge and commit yourself to either send it to a friend or friends every day for a minimum of 3 months, no matter how bad or terrible you think it is. A little exercise like this will prove that you CAN write whenever you like, and that on some level you are choosing not to. It's an important thing to realize that your talents and skills are yours and not on loan or borrowed or given to you by something else--there is no fickle muse that comes to or abandons you.

J.P. Dancing Bear

*****

I write book reviews for various online and print mags, so finding time to write my own stuff is hard. When I try to balance reviewing, family, my money jobs and my own pieces, I find that writer's block doesn't exist for me anymore. Because the reviews are on a deadline and I want to continue to be paid, I have to force myself to be a professional and write even when I don't feel like writing. Normally, when I am 5-10 minutes into the piece it starts to flow.

The reviewing and journalism has put my own writing in perspective and has made me realize, that if you're a writer, you write. Because my time is limited, I take the time that I'm given to work on my own stuff as a gift. If I have an hour or so, I apply Cory Doctorow's 20-minute method. For example, I know realistically that I do not have large chunks of time to write my novel. I give myself 25-30 minutes to write a chunk. I literally set my PDA alarm to go off in 20 minutes. The time goes by so fast, and when the alarm goes off I am usually in a white hot writing frenzy and I stop in the middle and I cannot wait to go back to it the next day.

I apply this technique to all my writing: play-writing, short stories, and even poetry. When you have finite time to write, you learn to inspire yourself. The book reviewing also teaches me to have more perspective about my own stuff. I discover quickly what works and what does not work.

My advice: Write like there is no tomorrow, because there isn't. Don't worry too much about revision or research, that's later. Get that intial draft down and write your butt off.

Lee Gooden

*****

I generally make it a practice to write some random line on a blank page. Even something that may be picked up from the newspaper lying beside me or an ad.

Then I just write around that line. Something fitting or even something equally random...

Poddar Kushal

*****

1) If it's a long slump, I remind myself, "This is input time." I actually believe this to be true, as I have noticed that's the way of it. You think nothing's happening, but when writing does return, it's made some kind of quantum leap to a new level. In a long slump, I usually have to wait for it to return spontaneously in its own good time.

2) It's strange, but (in a briefer slump) what works for me is to start playing with form, rather than seeking ideas.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade

*****

My top tip: Just write for ten minutes without pausing, editing, crossing-out. Write 'I don't know what to write' and keep writing... Write 'I feel stuck' and keep writing. After ten minutes stop and circle five random words in your piece of writing--or even better, ask someone to circle them for you. Take these words and use them to begin writing for five minutes. Then circle four words and write, then three... and so on.. until you have just one word...

Very often it is our focus on the product of writing--Is it good enough? What will it be like as a finished piece?--that stops us from writing. By learning to enjoy writing as a process, you can keep writing and writing.

Sophie Nicholls

*****

I have a job that can be pretty high-pressure and involve long hours. During these busy cycles at work, I find myself feeling completely drained during my non-work times, which I usually reserve for writing. I feel like I have nothing left over; that all of the emotion, imagination and passion has been sapped out of me. In short, I feel like a walking drone. Last summer, I went on "real vacation" for the first time in years, and I came back incredibly stimulated, refreshed and inspired. But I can't do that very often. So I've developed some ways to help keep me going during the down times, when there is no vacation in sight:

1. I wait to write until I know I have several hours at a stretch to sit down and sink into "the zone." This helps keep the pressure off. I simply give myself permission not to start something new on weeknights, after I've worked a ten or twelve hour day. If I do anything, I just do minor revisions on works in progress. Or, I just crash in front of the TV and forget about it. I've actually gotten incredible inspiration from little snippets of things I've seen while zoned out in front of the tube. Vampire squids, for example.

2. During my several-hour writing stretch, I take a journal and I "speed-write" one poem on each page. I give myself permission to be absolutely awful in every way. I heap on the cliches. I write whatever comes into my head. I don't revise. I number the poems and consider them complete. Then I go back through in an hour or two and "mine" for a line, a thought, an idea, or image that I want to work with, and I begin writing the "real poem" from that. I choose one or two at time to work on and give myself a week to complete each one. The completion timeline keeps me accountable and helps make me feel like I'm being productive.

3. I have also started trying to practice what I call, "Poets' Eyes." This is a way of going through my day in an observant, open manner. It's almost like bringing a veil down over my "normal" eyes in order to open up more awareness. As much as possible, I try listening to everything and see everything as a potential poem; it's a way of being open; of being willing to extract beauty or meaning from the banal, the annoying, the stressful, the just plain stupid. If I can even do this for five minutes at a time a few times a day, I can usually find something interesting to add to my "treasure box" of ideas I want to work with.

Kristen McHenry

*****

When I can't write, I read, read, read, and read some more; sometimes I reread novels or short stories. Sometimes I read song lyrics hoping one word or phrase will spark something.

Melissa McEwen

*****

I really do feel a daily exercise loosens my brains, and if I get five poems out of thirty that can be worked into something interesting, I'll be pleased.

Shann Palmer

*****

I'm much more conscientious about my writing when I'm NOT writing than when I am, so I usually try to shift my focus away from that internal, absent impetus into something different, enjoyable, or productive. This usually means a new haircut, delightfully awful genre fiction, and editing. If that doesn't work, I create projects for myself, like painting, developing a mix tape, or creating a little Great(ness) anthology of my favorite poems from my favorite poets. When you're stuck in a writing slump, it's easy to focus on that missing creativity energy within you without realizing it's an entirely false paradigm. It's more likely that energy’s still in you, it's just moved somewhere else in you. Find it again and reign it in, or just go with it for a while, it might be leading you somewhere unexpected.

Todd Dillard

*****

I go for a walk out in nature to unblock when stumped on a scene or dried up. Walking along a trail means no noises other than those of the birds, nothing to cloud the mind. That quiet lends to thinking and all I have to do is let the scene play through my mind while walking. Usually, I get better ideas than the ones I already had.

The unfortunate part is that frequently I don't remember when I get home! As a help, I started carrying a pen and some folded papers in a pocket then would stop to jot things down. Oddly, the more I jotted down, the more it flowed in my head.

Not only does walking help with the writing, it feeds more oxygen to the brain. Good no matter what...

Lynn Steen

*****

I recently accompanied my husband to a doctor's appointment, where I picked up National Geographic to scan so I could avoid watching Regis & Kelly. I normally don't read that magazine, but I found a totally huge amount of inspiration in the pages. I wrote notes for an hour and came away with probably 10-15 poem ideas from that experience alone. I was so excited. In the past, I've told my writing group to do that (pick up a magazine or art book you normally wouldn't look at), but I guess I should have been taking my own advice.

Kimberlee Titus Gerstmann

*****

Keep a small stack of poetry books in the bathroom, then when you are in there giving the kids a bath (or doing other things!), you can read, and be filled with inspiration to write as soon as they are in bed.

Caili Wilk

*****

It's hard to believe I used to write two or three poems a day. Now it's more like a dozen a year. Perhaps I've grown more discriminating. I'm sure a lot of those earlier poems suck!

A couple of ideas for breaking through. You've got to read a lot, broad and deep. Find a poet you enjoy and let them inspire you.

If you are absolutely stuck, try a copy change poem. Take a poem you love and put the idea into your own words.

Or try a found poem. Take lines from the paper, magazine, or lines you've overheard, and make a poem out of them. It's a start. Sometimes the result is damn good!

David Blaine

*****

Whenever I find myself in a slump with my writing, I do three things: read, ponder, riff. It's really that simple. The hard part to know is that a writer must, when shaking off that dust, read only the very kinds of literature that made him or her want to write in the first place. There are certain "go to" writers I use that will always create new work for me. But I have to read that which causes a visceral jolt in my psyche. And enjoy that reading. It's only through the enjoyment and experiencing of that reading that I start to feel my love for literature eat through the layers of despondency or boredom or responsibility. Sometimes, I'll read work by them that's new to me and read until I hit a particularly evocative line or idea, drop the book, and go write a poem or story.

When I write, then, I don't stay in the fear envelope; I give myself complete permission to write over and past it. I once heard a girl in a creative writing workshop make a comment about a piece of someone's work that had to do with whether it could be assessed as "good enough" to be canon--my response: Bullshit! That fear and expectation has to go. Writing is a muscle best kept warm. You don't have to write every piece with the idea (lofty, over-extending) that you want your every penned effort to be canon-worthy. You write because you love it, often because you have to, and because it lights you up, your brain, your idealism, your goals or agendas regarding humanity. So, that's my solution. Read, ponder, riff. It's a lucky charm. For me, it works every time.

Heather Fowler

*****

Play.

Amy Cunningham

*****

If you have your own ideas on this subject, please share them in the comments below.

Interview With Poet J.P. Dancing Bear

Tue, 10 Feb 2009 17:05:04 GMT

For a few years now, I've been aware of J.P. Dancing Bear's work--from seeing his name floating around in literary journals. It wasn't until we became friends on Facebook (a year or so ago) that I knew he was the editor of American Poetry Journal and Dream Horse Press, as well as host of "Out of Our Minds" (a weekly poetry program on public radio station KKUP). Dancing Bear is also the author of What Language (Slipstream), Billy Last Crow (Turning Point), Gacela of Narcissus City (Main Street Rag), and--most recently--Conflicted Light (Salmon Poetry).

Here's a favorite poem of mine from Conflicted Light:

Auricle

I heard the humming engine
of a heart smaller than an anvil;
in the hummingbird's forest
my ear was mistaken for a flower--
I should be complimented
for the brief moment before
the taste of my ear canal
will forever mark the thin tongue.
The hunger that was whispered
to me, woke me from a dream:

I was the drum in the redwoods,
the tongue of green prophesies,
the anvil of summer hunger,
awakened to the canopy songs
that had lain in the linens of leaves
I called my stomach. Now I hear
the hammer's rumor of sparks
on the anvil and can taste fear.
Now I realize I worked for years
in the coded silence of a paper heart.

*****

What are you currently up to?

Well, I tend to keep fairly busy most of the time. Right now, I'm working on getting Bruce Cohen's book, Disloyal Yo-Yo, published. I'm also putting the final touches on my next book, Inner Cities of Gulls, which will come out by Salmon Poetry next year. I just went through and revised my other manuscript for submission to a few contests. I've been writing two other manuscript/projects, Birthday Notes and Dancing to Orphee's Radio. Then there's reading for the Dream Horse Press and the APJ.

You're the editor of American Poetry Journal and Dream Horse Press; you host the "Out of Our Minds" radio show on KKUP; and you’re constantly getting your own writing published widely. How do you manage to wear so many poetic hats at once?

I try not to think about how much work there is to do. I try to remain focused on whatever the task is at hand, get it done and move on. I think it also helps that I normally don't require as much sleep as most people do. I've been a 4.5 to 6 hour sleeper since I was a kid—used to drive my parents crazy that I would stay awake until 2 sometimes 3 in the morning. And for the longest time, my writing time was between midnight and 2 a.m., but I've learned to write whenever the mood takes me. Dream Horse requires and APJ require that I set aside whole portions of a day to work on them. I like to work at least 4 to 8 hours straight on either.

Your recent collection, Conflicted Light, was released by an Irish publisher (Salmon Poetry). How did that come about?

I think Jessie Lendennie (the owner of Salmon Poetry) and I were on a large group mailing list together at one point. I tend to lurk, but I will chime in when I think I have something to offer on a topic that hasn't already been expressed. I had piped up about something and about a day later I got a message from Jessie saying she'd read my work and really liked it. I had been a fan of Salmon Poetry (I've got several titles on my shelves) for quite some time, and well… the rest just fell into place.

What do you feel makes a great collection of poems?

I think there are any number of things that work to make a great collection of poems. If you are asking me to step out of my Dream Horse Press editor's hat, then I would say that a great collection of poems is one in which every page is something to be savored. That you read the first poem and it is like a fine and delicate morsel of food. You want to take your time and enjoy it. You know just from that first poem that you are in for a gourmet meal. You do not want to rush to the next page, you may want to read one or two poems a day. And reread them. And then again.

If I'm wearing my Dream Horse Press editor's hat… I like to look for collections that hold together as a larger poem. I also enjoy crafted poems that clearly show the writer's knowledge and skill without taking away from the poem at all. In other words, I think there should be something in the poems for a second and third reading that make those just as enjoyable as the first reading.

On a poem-by-poem level, what is the typical life of one of your poems—from idea to publication?

I tend to work in projects or manuscripts first. So a project comes to me sometimes as a couple of poems that I can see go together, or I will sometimes challenge myself in some way, creating a set of rules that I have to follow. I don't have one set way of writing a poem, sometimes it's a line that comes to me, sometimes it's an idea or a thought I begin exploring, sometimes it's an image, and sometimes it's a voice. I will usually play with it in my head for several days. Rolling it back and forth, adding to and taking away from it until I feel there's a core something there.

Then I will write it down, usually the first draft will take about an hour. I will then read it aloud and edit it until I think it "sounds" right. Then I have a few friends whom I might "try it out" on. I'll get feedback and "try" to incorporate that back into the poem. Then I'll set the poem aside. I will generally write about three quarters to four fifths of a manuscript (or when I know there's only a few months left) before I start sending poems from that project.

I do this for a number of reasons: One, it gives me distance from the first poems I wrote in the series, so I can stand back and look at them and decide if they are ready, or edit them to the point of being ready; Two, I will not get discouraged about the entire project if the poems are rejected, and therefore question whether I should continue working on the project; Three, the editing and submission functions, I find, are distractions from the actual creative action, so I don't like to do that until later in the project. If a poem is accepted, I may want to tinker with it a little more, nothing too big, a word or a phrase at most. If a poem is rejected, I will go back and review it, read it aloud several times, possibly revise it, and send it out again. At the point where about a quarter to half of the manuscript has been published, I will begin sending that out.

The exception to this rule has been my Birthday Notes project on Facebook. The rules I set out for myself is that the poems have to be written using an application available to me when I go to the person having a birthday that day's wall, I will also put them together and publish them on my Notes/Wall page, and I write a prose poem there on their wall and it has to be done on that day. Since it's all done on the spur of the moment, it's a different kind of writing. I have to make a decision and run with it right away. Sometimes there's been as many as nine of them to write, and you just can't deliberate choices and ideas.

How important do you feel community is to a poet?

I have mixed feelings about it. Online, I tend to enjoy being "connected" to writers all over the planet. We have fun, and I think some of us are playful. I also enjoy playing word games with other writers. And touching base with them.

The physically local writing communities really depend on where you are and who you fall in with. I think it also depends on the types of personalities that are part of the formal organization. I remember back in the late nineties a group of us used to get together, go to readings, put together potluck gatherings and had a lot of fun doing it. It was all done in the spirit of openness and we were trying to reach across political, group or community lines. The events were very informal and fun. I've been part of more formalized organizations and it frankly wasn't my cup of tea.

I appreciate those kinds of groups when they are done right, and one of them I think that does a good job is Poetry Santa Cruz, they present or sponsor a couple of readings a month (usually at least one with a writer who is visiting the area), and are involved in fostering a strong poetry community.

However, I tend to be better with the online community because I can work in being a part of them to compliment my schedule, I cannot necessarily do this with the physical ones.

Who are you currently reading?

Eesh. This is not an easy answer for me because I am constantly reading. And I could answer this with any number of parameters. So first, I'll split out the dead writers and list them (in no particular order) first: James Wright, Federico Garcia Lorca, Robert Frost, John Berryman, Larry Levis, John Logan, Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes, Lynda Hull, W. H. Auden, Neruda, Paul Celan, and Reginald Shepherd (if you ask me tomorrow, I'd probably have a different list depending on memory).

I tend to read a lot of magazines (both online and printed) and there are certain names that I will naturally gravitate to and read first, and I would say the same holds true if I'm in a bookstore and I see their name on the spine of a book (and I am going to limit this list to authors with more than one book published): Nance van Winckel, Natasha Saje, Mary Ruefle, Roddy Lumsden, Kathleen Jamie, Ralph Angel, Jack Gilbert, Mary Jo Bang, Carolyn Forche, Tony Barnstone, Willis Barnstone, Jim Powell, Dorianne Laux, Margret Gibson, Mary Oliver, John Ashbury, Paul Guest, Mark Doty, Sherman Alexie, Robert Bly (and again, these were off the top of my head, and I'm sure I would have a different list tomorrow). I will also add that I read and seek out any of the authors that I've published. And just to round this off, if you are a friend of mine, naturally I'm going to read your poem if I see it.

I will also say that I like to read many different writers and have an ever-expanding list of favorites. I feel, that it is essential to keeping an open mind and to being a good editor.

If you could share only one piece of advice with other poets, what would it be?

Constantly push and challenge yourself to do new things and learn new things. If you've never written a sonnet, then challenge yourself to writing a crown of sonnets. If you've never written anything other than formal verse, write a prose poem. Breaking down things, understanding the craft behind them and rebuilding the way you write only makes you a stronger and better writer. Never, ever think you are "there"--always be on the journey.

*****

To learn more about J.P. Dancing Bear (including Dream Horse Press and American Poetry Journal), check out his website at http://home.comcast.net/~jpdancingbear/.

To learn more about Salmon Poetry, which published Conflicted Light, check out their website at www.salmonpoetry.com.

Interview With Poet Susan Rich

Tue, 03 Feb 2009 13:00:15 GMT

Susan Rich is a special kind of poet--one who has gotten out and seen the world first hand before setting pen to paper (or keystroke to word processor). She's worked in the field of human rights for nine years; lived and/or worked in Bosnia, Gaza, Ireland, South Africa and Republic of Niger; was shot at in Croatia; and photographed for a recent book on women's body images. With so many experiences, most people would be filled with good stories, but Rich is also able to craft these tales into wonderful poems.

White Pine Press published Rich's first two collections, The Cartographer's Tongue (2000) and Cures Include Travel (2006), and plans on releasing her third collection, The Alchemist's Kitchen, in 2010. Both of her published collections share the knowledge of a writer who's seen the world--as the titles indicate.

Here's a favorite of mine from Cures Include Travel:

Mohamud at the Mosque

for my student upon his graduation

And some time later in the lingering
blaze of summer, in the first days
after September 11 you phoned--

If I don't tell anyone my name I'll
pass for an African American.
And suddenly, this seemed a sensible solution--

the best protection: to be a black man
born in America, more invisible than
Somali, Muslim, asylum seeker--

Others stayed away that first Friday
but your uncle insisted that you pray.
How fortunes change so swiftly

I hear you say. And as you parallel
park across from the Tukwila
mosque, a young woman cries out--

her fears unfurling beside your battered car--
Go back where you came from!
You stand, both of you, dazzling there

in the mid-day light, her pavement
facing off along your parking strip.
You tell me she is only trying

to protect her lawn, her trees,
her untended heart--already
alarmed by its directive.

And when the neighborhood
policeman appears, asks
you, asks her, asks all the others--

So what seems to be the problem?
He actually expects an answer,
as if any of us could name it--

as if perhaps your prayers
chanted as this cop stands guard
watching over your windshield

during the entire service
might hold back the world
we did not want to know.

*****

What are you currently up to?

I'm working on a series of ekphrastic poems inspired by the work of Myra Albert Wiggins (1869-1956). Wiggins was one of the first women artists in the Pacific Northwest to make her living exclusively as an artist. She was a photographer, painter, and poet, but best known for her photographs. For a short time, she exhibited widely in New York and Europe. Alfred Stieglitz published her work in Camera Notes and George Eastman hung one of her photographs in his office at Eastman-Kodak. I'm very drawn to her photographs, in particular, probably because she works from imagined narratives and also traveled widely. I hope to have a small chapbook within my next full length collection, The Alchemist’s Kitchen, coming out in April 2010 from White Pine Press.

This is my first time working on a series of ekphrastic poems, first time writing any poems at all that are inspired by the visual arts and it's sort of magical. Working with images, especially narrative images like the ones Wiggins creates, really functions like the poem's rough draft. I can begin with a girl, a bowl, a dark spoon--and we're off to the races.

I'm also still celebrating my first prize award published in the Times Literary Supplement (of London). My good friend, the poet Kelli Agodon, figured out that my poem earned $333.33 per line or $28.98 per word! WOW! And who said poetry doesn't pay?

With one collection titled The Cartographer's Tongue and another titled Cures Include Travel, travel seems to play a very important role in your poetry. Do you think travel can help a writer grow?

I believe travel offers us a relatively safe way to shed our everyday skins and step outside the closed world we've so carefully constructed around us. In my everyday life I'm in contact with people who often have a shared sense of community, city, country--even if my background is Russian and my neighbor is Somali; but by virtue of living here in the US where I was born, I don't have to examine my everyday assumptions and suppositions.

When I worked in Gaza, I was commonly asked, whether I supported the United States military aide to Israel. In West Africa, I needed to remember, for my two years there, never to extend my left hand in greeting or--God forbid!--eat with it. In Bosnia, one didn't ever ask where a person stayed during the war. These are perhaps a sundry set of examples of how each culture has its own decorum and set of assumptions. What I find so interesting is how rarely we question our own lived ideas.

Yes, I believe travel helps a writer grow, helps anyone grow; allows us the chance to become part of a broader human spectrum of experience.

For your own travel, you've been to places such as Bosnia, Gaza and South Africa. Your poetry often deals with people and events witnessed while on the road. Do you feel you must have something important to say when you sit down to write a poem?

If I thought I needed to only write important poems, I would still be staring into this screen before me. Who needs that kind of pressure?

You've been shot at in Croatia, modeled for a recent book on women's body images, and traveled around the globe; do you feel you live an adventurous life?

When you put it that way, it does sound exciting, doesn't it? No, I am afraid everyday life centers around cups of good coffee and ministering to the cats.

For the last ten years, I have been teaching English and Film Studies at Highline Community College. I have had two sabbaticals, time off for good behavior and done some traveling, but primarily my life is very staid. Seattle is an almost perfect place for a writer to live. I feel very lucky to have found it. I'm originally from Boston, Massachusetts.

What is true is that I am often motivated by fear. If I am offered an experience--such as working in Bosnia only three months after the war--I feel compelled to react against that fear and accept the offers that present themselves in my life. I think it is called counterphobic.

How do you handle the whole submission process from submitting poems to keeping track of your submissions?

I am the odd writer who loves submitting my work. I play the license plate game only with poetry journals and aim to publish in every state--if I can. Over the years it's been a good way to not over think the rejections from the New Yorker or the Atlantic and instead rejoice in smaller, but extremely respectable journals such as the Antioch Review and Quarterly West. To date, my poems have traveled to 33 states and 7 countries. Some states are easier to find journals in than others. In Rhode Island, the choices are limited.

This year, I have had acceptances from three journals that I have been sending to regularly for fifteen years. Fifteen, that's not a typo. In two of the three cases I never even had a "try again" scrawled along the bottom of the rejection slip. In fact, I prefer the pristine, impersonal rejection. Gettysburg Review rejects with high quality paper and in a timely fashion; I like that. They accept in much the same way. As someone who has worked as a poetry editor at several journals, I understand that most of the time there is nothing personal about rejection. I understand, or like to think I understand, that editors are people with bad days and good days.

My little editor fantasy goes like this: It's a sunny afternoon and Mr. or Ms. Editor has just come back to the desk after a light lunch at a favorite restaurant. With a fresh cup of tea and a cat for company, my editor reads my poems. In other words, I believe that timing and context are key. Many different considerations go into the acceptance of a poem and it's impossible to know what they are. You can read back issues of the journal, and that can help you choose food imagery over junkyard cats, but there is still a vast element of the unknown.

My favorite submission story goes like this: A friend of a friend submitted his work to a top literary journal only to have it rejected, but with a note suggesting radical changes. The writer waited a year and then sent the same poems, exactly the same poems (no edits) again. He included a note thanking the editor for such thoughtful suggestions on his work. Final result? One of the poems was accepted. I've also had the same poem rejected and then accepted from another journal. How to explain it except to say that submitting poems is not a realm of science. We send our work out into the world hoping it finds a home; hoping against hope, that it will speak to someone and in another state or on another continent; that we will be seen.

In a previous interview, I saw that you have your students memorize a poem by another poet. Do you feel it's important for poets to memorize their own poetry?

No, I don't. Personally, I'd rather recite Elizabeth Bishop and William Butler Yeats to myself than Susan Rich. Susan Rich isn't bad, but Bishop and Yeats are better.

Who are you currently reading?

My favorite book of poems at the moment is And Her Soul Out of Nothing by Olena Kalytiak Davis. It's the first book in awhile that I find utterly satisfying in its alternating mix of lyric and narrative impulses. For fiction Night Train to Lisbon by Mercier is on my bedside table. My favorite read of the last year was The Cellist of Sarajevo by Steven Galloway.

If you could pass on only piece of advice to fellow poets, what would it be?

I wish I had come across W. S. Merwin's poem "Berryman" years earlier. I share "Berryman" with my students now and we read it aloud together. The sense that we will never really know if anything we write is any good I find incredibly freeing. If we aren't able to pass judgment on our work, then we are free of that burden. There's nothing that drains the pen more quickly than the rush to decide if this is the next Pulitzer prize-winning poem or not. Recently, a poem of mine won a large prize which arrived with a bucket of award money. The truth is, I was utterly flabbergasted when I learned that the judges, and then the general public, chose this poem. Please don't get me wrong. I am proud of this poem and I am thrilled to have won the award, but I never would have believed that this small piece would go so far. If I had passed judgment on its worth, instead of sending it off into the world, I would have been wrong. What I want to convey is this: Push and sweat to write your best, and after that, leave it to others to judge. Try not to second guess your craft; trust in what you cannot know.

*****

To learn more about Susan Rich, you can visit her website at http://www.susanrich.net.

To learn more about her publisher (and perhaps check out her books), you can visit the White Pine Press website at http://www.whitepine.org.

Revision Tips: The Abstraction Distraction

Tue, 20 Jan 2009 05:14:37 GMT

One of my biggest faults as a poet starting out (and probably applicable to my writing now) is a tendency to go abstract with my language. When I was teaching online poetry courses, I noticed others doing this as well.

An example of overly abstract language:

Desire is not love, he thinks
as his lust betrays him
on the dance floor where men
sway in time with women
who want to break their hearts.
He thinks, desire is not love
and this dance floor is not heaven,
but that beat beats its way
into his soul. Thump-thump-thump.
He wants every woman to feel
his love, to feel his lust.

Okay. So this passage is abstract for a couple reasons. First, there are several abstract words in this passage, including desire, love, lust, hearts, heaven, and soul. (While heaven and hearts could be concrete images, in this passage they are used in an abstract way.) Second, the passage itself is abstract because it's not saying anything concrete. Everything is generalized, from the men to the women to the dance floor.

So, is this passage completely lost? No, I don't think so. There is a concrete protagonist (he) and a concrete scene (dance floor). To make this passage even more concrete, we could give the protagonist a dance partner.

She's not my wife, he thinks
as she leans into him and
he looks around for his friends
who've long since left. She sinks
down against his leg without
breaking eye contact with him.
He thinks, she's not my wife;
she's not my wife; she's not...

This passage is not perfect, but it does show how getting more specific can make a piece of writing more engaging. Both passages contain the same amount of feeling for the writer. (In fact, the abstract version probably contains even more feeling from the writer's perspective most of the time.) But making the writing concrete and specific is what usually engages readers.

*****

If you want an exercise, I'd suggest that you look over some of your previous poems and try to identify instances of abstraction. Once you can identify the instances of abstraction, you can then figure out how to tackle making things concrete. More than likely, your readers will enjoy the concrete version more.

Interview With Poet Jeannine Hall Gailey

Mon, 19 Jan 2009 06:22:26 GMT

Jeannine Hall Gailey is a West Coast journalist who publishes articles on subject matter as varied as how to bake a perfect scone to how to secure your web services application. (It should also be noted that she is writing a couple pieces for me for the 2010 Poet's Market.)

Gailey's poems have appeared in The Iowa Review, Columbia Poetry Review, Verse Daily, and 32 Poems, among others. She's published a chapbook, "Female Comic Book Superheroes" (Pudding House), and a full length collection, Becoming the Villainess (Steel Toe Books). Plus, Jeannine is quick to point out that she still reads comics.

There were many poems from Becoming the Villainess that I absolutely loved, but this is my favorite:

She Escapes the Film Noir

I slip out the door,
wearing a raincoat as disguise.
It might have wrinkles, indicating a recent tryst.
Also, I may wear a fedora.
I will certainly have a lot of hair
falling over the brim of my eyelashes, either because
I'm too busy to cut it
or I don't want anyone looking me in the eyes.
Ominous footsteps echo in an unseen room,
along with distant thunder.
We are unsure of the dialogue in this script.

You watch me lean into the wet, shining street
and peer, nervous, into shadows.
Am I looking for you?
Or the man with a gun?
Either way, I'm holding tickets to Paris.
Care to join me?
I would light a cigarette
except for the damn rain. My lipstick
in this lighting is darker than blood,
and my hands won't stop shaking.

*****

What are you currently up to?

I just finished teaching my first class for National University's MFA program, an all-online Intro to Poetry Seminar. It was fascinating to try to give feedback on poems as a class without all the little tricks of body language and voice inflection; I remembered how much I rely on non-verbal cues when I teach. But it was a great adventure.

I'm working on some new manuscripts: one that investigates female heroines in Japanese pop culture and folk tales, and the idea of "mono no aware" or "softly despairing sorrow," another about being trapped in the physical body and the stories of Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White, and the third is a just-begun collection about growing up in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, in the shadow of the birth-place of nuclear bombs, as the daughter of a robotics scientist. The first two I'm actively seeking publishers for; the third is still in progress.

Also, I just moved to Southern California from the Pacific Northwest, so I'm still trying to get used to all the palm trees, surfers and women that wear Ugg boots when it's 60 degrees. It's definitely an alien landscape.

Becoming the Villainess is your first book-length collection. Did the manuscript develop naturally, or did it go through many versions?

I began putting together a full-length collection as soon as Pudding House Press offered to publish my little chapbook called "Female Comic Book Superheroes." Putting together the chapbook made me realize just how many poems I'd written over ten years with the same themes, the same characters, the same voices. I originally tried to create a more conventionally-poetic, uplifting manuscript, but one day my husband came along and read my manuscript and said something about how the real story of the book was how the speakers go from powerlessness to power, from innocent to corrupt, from the princess to the villainess. So I titled it "Becoming the Villainess" and stopped trying to fight the dark side of the MS or impose a happy ending on the collection. I also had terrific insight from a bunch of friends about the manuscript during the eighteen months I sent it out. Finally, I decided to rearrange it according to comic book structure--the origin story, the character arc, the final frame, and so on. That felt right. And just after I rearranged it that way, Steel Toe Books' Tom Hunley called to say they wanted to publish it.

You have a website, a blog, and a presence on social networking sites, such as FaceBook. Do you feel having an Internet presence helps spread the word about your writing?

I do feel that it has helped, although, to be honest, I'm sort of a techie geek and love to be on the computer so I'd probably do the website, blog, and Facebook stuff even if I wasn't a poet. Shameful secret: I learned to program video games in BASIC on my Dad's TRS-80 when I was six. So I don't really need an excuse to play around with technology. But if I did, I think that all writers who want to hear from their readers and peers should engage online. You'll get to know people who will never be able to attend one of your readings, whom you might never meet in person, so in that way it does extend your audience.

I do get quite a few e-mails from people who have found my work online and loved it, and I think the blog community has been very supportive. I've met a lot of people "online" and then read their work or met them in person, and was so thankful that they had a blog or website or posted on a discussion board, so I could discover their wonderful work.

On your website, you offer poetry consulting and editing services. What do you see as a common problem poets make in assembling collections?

I think it's hard for most writers (including me) to get enough distance from their own collections to really see what they are really about or what the collection is doing for the reader. What's the subtext? What's the arc? How are the poems related to one another in a larger sense? Sometimes when I read manuscripts I get interesting insights about the writer's personality, about what they choose to share with the world. That's the delightful, fun part of editing a manuscript. It's kind of like a makeover show in that way. Usually people have a bunch of great work put together in a not-so-great way. As an editor, I want to help people present their work in the most intelligent, interesting, dynamic way possible. Sometimes people put together great collections of individual poems with nothing coherent about the collection itself, just a ramshackle bunch of poems. Sometimes the manuscript is terrific and coherent, but the writer chose to put their weakest or most off-putting work first or last. Or they take ten pages to get to the real subject of the collection. Often, it's just a matter of cutting a few poems, a bit of rearrangement, and talking to the author about what they are trying to say with their manuscript and making them aware of their quirks and their strengths. Then, they're usually off and running.

You've been published widely. How do you go about submitting your work, including tracking where everything is?

In Seattle I had a group of poet friends who would meet and encourage each other to send stuff out, make goals, bring in copies of their favorite lit mags, that kind of thing. That was tremendously helpful. I also spent a year reviewing literary journals for NewPages.com, which was probably the best way ever to research a ton of literary magazines I might not ever have heard of otherwise. I encourage every aspiring poet to spend a year writing lit mag reviews for NewPages.com.

As far as nuts and bolts: I've used Writer's Market's online submission tracker, Dueotrope, and I have made my own Excel spreadsheet of poems to send out and where they've been sent. Even with all that, I still lose track once in a while, or receive a rejection or acceptance from a place I don't remember ever sending poems to. I blame my (evil and disorganized) alter ego.

In Becoming the Villainess, you have to get inside the skin of several characters. Did you find this tactic liberating as a writer?

When I first discovered persona poetry as a younger writer, I absolutely felt at home. Persona poetry allows poets to use fiction writers' tools without all the commitment of a novel! Character, plot, dialogue--and a wonderful liberation from "normalcy." I am a champion of persona poetry exercises for writers because often it requires the writer to make a leap in imagination--kind of the opposite of the old "write what you know" adage, instead "write what you can imagine"--and empathy. To write a good persona poem, a writer must develop a sense of empathy for the character they're writing about, go beyond "good" or "bad" to really identify with another person. In my case, embracing and then challenging the stereotypes about women in popular culture and mythology also allowed me to re-write stilted roles--busty superheroine, powerless princess, femme fatale, etc.--which was very satisfying.

Since you mentioned to me in an earlier e-mail that you're a "sort of comic book and sci-fi geek," I've just got to ask: Who would be the last person standing in a battle between Spider-Man, The Hulk, Batman, Superman, Catwoman, Wonder Woman, The Joker, Magneto, Wolverine, Storm, the Invisible Woman, Lex Luthor, James T. Kirk, Spock, Darth Maul, Obi Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Yoda, and Luke Skywalker?

Why does it always have to be fighting? Wonder Woman could use her "golden lasso of truth" and they could all get in a circle and talk about how it feels to be different--I mean, alien, mutant, evil genius--these are people that could use a little group therapy.

Seriously, though, Dr. Manhattan, of course. And maybe Dark Phoenix. They'd make a great couple, wouldn't they?

But my favorite comic book character right now is Joss Whedon's Fray.

Who are you currently reading?

I just finished The Elegance of the Hedgehog, a French novel I can't stop talking about because I love it so much. Philosophy, Japanese pop culture, action movies, class issues--it has it all! And I finally got to The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, which was brutal but fantastic.

As for poetry, I'm a frequent reviewer and so I'm knee-deep in new books! Suzanne Frishkorn's Lit Windowpane, Michelle Bitting's Good Friday Kiss, Jericho Brown's Please…I think that's just the top three on a stack about three feet high.

I also recently read Alicia Ostriker's book of essays, For the Love of God. There's an essay in there about Ecclesiastes that blows my mind every time I read it. And I loved Beth Ann Fennelly's Unmentionables and Rachel Zucker's Bad Wife Handbook so much I wrote an essay about them, which I am trying to find a home for.

If you could pass on only one piece of advice to your fellow poets, what would it be?

Don't be afraid to write about the subjects you care most about; not every poem has to be about snow falling on an old farmhouse. Stick with your passions. Embrace your own special weirdness.

*****

To check out Jeannine Hall Gailey's website, go to www.webbish6.com.

For more information on Steel Toe Books, go to www.steeltoebooks.com.

*****

If you're a poet or publisher interested in an interview on this blog, click here to learn more about how to start that process.

Revision Tips: Avoiding IT and THAT

Wed, 14 Jan 2009 03:59:50 GMT

After teaching a couple poetry courses over at WOW, I've decided to start sharing revision tips, since this seems--even to me--to be a very mysterious part of the poetry writing process. Writing is tough, but revision asks writers to look at their work and admit that it's not as good as it seemed at the time.

The best way to handle revision is to make sure it doesn't get personal. Go into a first draft expecting to need edits. (If you somehow don't need any, you're either very lucky--or you're being too easy on yourself.) Revision is what often sets good writers apart from the rest of the pack.

I dug into the Poetic Asides archives to share two revision techniques I employ quite frequently.

The first one is to Put THAT Thing Away! In this post, I discuss how unnecessary the word "that" is to most sentences and lines of poetry. You can cut "that" out of most statements where it's included.

The second one is to Cut IT Out! This post discusses the word "it" and how many poems can be improved by finding ways to cut "it" out of the poem by any means necessary.

I plan to share other revision tips as we go along, but these are always my first two steps when looking to revise my own poems.

Interview With Poet Suzanne Frischkorn

Tue, 13 Jan 2009 03:39:02 GMT

Suzanne Frischkorn gets to lead off the 2009 poet interviews on Poetic Asides. (Woo-hoo! Yay! Hurrah!)

I enjoyed reading Frischkorn's most recent--and first full length--collection, Lit Windowpane (Main Street Rag Publishing Company), for many reasons. First, the poems are "spare," which is a fancy way of saying they are unassuming poems that pack a punch. Second, the poems seem to communicate with each other throughout--making the whole even stronger than it's individual parts, which are doing fine on their own (many of them published in publications, such as Diode, MARGIE, and No Tell Motel).

Here's a personal favorite of mine from Lit Windowpane:

Ruin

In the spider and on the web. On the branch
and in the pothole. Yellowed grass, wilted
fern, blackened growth. On the skeletal
stems of black-eyed Susans and in dawn's
stretch. The glint of street lights. The sibilant
mulberry behind blinds. Empty sky. Listen
to these old windows,
how they lend themselves to rattle.

What are you currently up to?

I’m putting together a new collection of poems, working on some essays and editing the New Haven issue of Locuspoint.

Mary Oliver describes your writing as "select and elegant," while James Hoch says your writing is "spare." I noticed it, too. Is that sparseness something you consciously do with your writing?

No, when I begin writing a poem I don’t plan how that poem will end, what shape it will take, or set out for a particular style. I let the poem lead me.

How many drafts do your poems tend to make? And, do you think your poems go through more or less drafts now than when you first started getting published?

I revise a lot when I'm working on a poem, but I've never counted individual drafts, I know it's many -- many, many drafts. My writing process doesn’t seem to have changed with publication.

Many reviews mention your focus on nature in Lit Windowpane, but a lot of that nature seems focused on the water. Is there a reason for this?

Water is definitely one of the unifying elements of the book. I once read that your childhood landscape will always be your landscape no matter where you live in adulthood. After writing Lit Windowpane, I realize that's true. Most of my early childhood was spent on Miami Beach , and for many years I lived a short walk from Long Island Sound. The poems in the book were written after I had moved inland. In hindsight of course it’s obvious that I miss being close to the water.

Before Lit Windowpane, you published five chapbooks. What do you feel makes a good chapbook?

My favorite chapbooks have a focused theme, either through image, style, form, or any of the numerous ways to create a sequence of poems. I’m partial to the chapbook in any case, including the chapbook without a theme that gives a sample of the poet’s work. The bibliophile in me loves the chapbook as an art object.

You have a nice website that includes information about you, your collections, and readings. What function do you think a website should serve for a poet?

Thank you. A website allows a poet to have a web presence that’s current, directs those interested in her/his work to points of interest, and includes contact information. Basically it should function as a marketing tool.

You've been published in several journals. How do you handle submitting and tracking your submissions?

I tend to either submit a lot or not at all, meaning I’ll go through regular periods of sending my work out and then find I need a break from the administrative side of poetry. My submission tracking system is rudimentary, it’s usually a word document that lists the name of the journal, poems submitted, the date of submission, and a note on whether the journal accepts simultaneous submissions or not.

Who are you currently reading?

Jean Valentine and Ralph Angel.

If you could pass on only one piece of advice to fellow poets, what would it be?

Read, read, read and read.

*****

To check out Suzanne's website, go to: http://www.suzannefrischkorn.net/

To check out Suzanne's publisher's website, go to: http://www.mainstreetrag.com/

*****

To learn how you, too, could possibly end up interviewed on this here blog, go to: http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/Call+For+Poets.aspx

Poetry Exercise: Using Random Lines

Fri, 09 Jan 2009 14:24:15 GMT

If you want something fun to try this weekend, here's a poetry exercise that I often employ myself in creating drafts of poems.

First, write a line or two. Don't worry about writing any further than that. The line can be a random thought that pops into your head, or something interesting that you hear someone say. Remember: Don't worry about any larger meaning when writing this line, and don't spend more than a few minutes--at the most--completing this task.

Then, in a hour or so, write another line or two without taking into consideration the earlier line you wrote. Again, don't worry about any larger meaning. Just write the line and move on with your daily routine.

Repeat this process every hour or so throughout the day or over a few days.

Then, collect all the random lines and try to make a poem out of them.

The beauty of this exercise is that it forces you to get creative with connections and juxtapositions of ideas and images. While this exercise may or may not produce a poem you like, it helps exercise your poetic muscles in a way that you can use this same technique to help with poem revisions later on down the road.

Since I like to provide examples, here are random lines I've produced over the past week:

* Don't even change your face.
* You'll never take me alive.
* What's between here and there.
* I still write love poems.
* Plane tickets and video games.
* Here she comes again.
* I'll take you wherever I want.
* Not everybody is a good guy.

Here's my attempt with these lines:

"What's between"

Not everybody is a good guy,
and I still write love poems. Here she
comes again, saying, "Don't even change
your face. You'll never take me alive."
Plane tickets and video games
in her purse, she tries being sincere,
but we're the only ones here who care
about what's between here and there.
I grab her wrist and tell her,
"I'll take you wherever I want."

*****

As you can see, I took several lines that were unrelated and made something out of them. It's definitely a first draft, but I think it's a good example of how you can employ this technique. None of the random lines were written with this poem in mind. In fact, half the lines were things I overheard others say that I found interesting.

Anyway, here's my little poetry exercise for the weekend.

Interview With Poet Tom C. Hunley

Tue, 09 Dec 2008 17:22:46 GMT

I'm very pleased to share the following interview with Tom C. Hunley. Recently, Logan House released his third full-length collection, Octopus. He also published The Tongue (Wind Publications) and Still, There's a Glimmer (WordTech Editions) in 2004, in addition to three chapbook collections.

When he's not writing poetry, he's an assistant professor at Western Kentucky University and the director of Steel Toe Books. Plus, he never misses an opportunity to mention that he's a devoted husband to his wife Ralaina and doting father to Evan, Owen, and Blake.

Here's a poem from Octopus that I especially enjoyed (which Tom has pointed out was recently read by Garrison Keiller on October 26 at http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2008/10/26):

The Dental Hygienist

She said "open up,"
so I showed her my teeth,
a chipped-white fence
that keeps my tongue penned in.

She rinsed my mouth.
She suctioned my cheek.

She said "How do you like this town?"
so I said "Mmpllff,"
though I meant "More every day,"

and she said "Gorgeous weather!"
so I said "Mmpllff"
though I meant "In my mouth?"

and she didn't say anything,
so I said "Mmpllff" and "Mmpllff"
though I'm not sure what I meant,
and she took me to mean
"Would you like to go out tonight?"
and "to an expensive restaurant?"

When I arrived with a bouquet of roses,
she stuffed them in my mouth.

She told me all about her feelings:
how she feels about fillings,
how she feels about failures.

She said "open up."
She said "It's like pulling teeth
trying to get men to talk about their feelings."

So I said "Mmpllff,"
though I meant "You smell prettier than the flowers in my mouth,"
and I said "Mmpllff,"
though I meant "I'm afraid of dying alone."

She said I was a good conversationalist
and showed me her perfect teeth.
I felt an ache in my jaw.
I felt drool crawling down my chin.

*****

And with that, let's get into the interview:

What are you currently up to?

When I'm not looking after my three small kids or my 85 not-so-small students, I'm mostly working on a poetry writing textbook tentatively titled The Poetry Gymnasium: Ninety-Five Poem-Strengthening Exercises. In my experience, most poetry writing textbooks treat exercises sort of as afterthoughts. My textbook-in-progress includes a clear learning objective for each exercise, a little historical background on the poetic subgenre the exercise aims to teach, a clear rationale for each particular exercise, model published poems, and poems written by my students using each exercise. It is the follow-up to my theoretical book, Teaching Poetry Writing: A Five-Canon Approach, and like that book, it uses the five canons of classical rhetoric (invention, arrangement, style, memory, and delivery) as an organizing principle. I've been at it for almost two years, and I hope to begin shopping it in a few months.

You're the director of Steel Toe Books and accept manuscripts during open submission periods. What's the most common mistake poets make when submitting?

Failing to follow guidelines. For example, in October we advertised an open reading period for predominately formal verse, but many poets sent us manuscripts that were written primarily in free verse.

In your opinion, what makes a good collection?

Arranging poems into a collection is a lot like arranging lines into a poem. I think there should be the same kind of movement, from problem to solution, from buildup to crescendo, from exposition to denouement, whatever it may be. I also find it helpful to think of a book as a concept album. I have an exercise in my textbook-in-process that asks students to analyze the way an album like Tommy or The Marshall Mathers LP or Electric Ladyland is organized. Why does one track follow the next? How would the album be enhanced or damaged if one song were moved or taken out? Then I ask them to discover an organizing principle and try applying it to a chapbook of their own poems.

Octopus won the 2007 Holland Prize from Logan House. Do you usually enter contests, wait for open submission periods, or take a by-any-means-necessary approach to shopping a completed manuscript?

I would like to see presses put more of their energies into sales and less of their energies into running contests. I would also like to see poets put their money into buying poetry books rather than spending it on contest fees.

My first two full-length collections, The Tongue and Still, There's a Glimmer, were both published in 2004 by presses that do not run contests (Wind Publications and WordTech Editions, respectively). I am grateful to those editors, Charlie Hughes at Wind and Kevin Walzer and Lori Jareo at WordTech, not only for publishing my books but also for teaching me a good deal about the business end small-press publishing.

I won Pecan Grove Press's chapbook contest for My Life as a Minor Character (2005). I submitted to them because I had heard good things about the editors, Palmer Hall and Louie Cortez, from a couple acquaintances who had published with them.

Then I entered the Holland Prize because I got a kick out of Logan House Press's web site (http://www.loganhousepress.com). I liked the fact that they once had an "Imagining Editor," rather than a managing editor (Jim Reese, who has since moved on). The current editors, cowboy poet JV Brummels and musician/book designer Eddie Elfers, are clearly enjoying what they're doing, which was evident from the web site. Also, I liked the fact that they sell books through a subscription service called the Live Poets Society, and I like the fact that everyone who enters the contest gets a copy of the winning book; that's a win-win for the published poet and for everyone who enters the contest.

Some of your poems in Octopus (such as "Ism-Ism" and "Interdisciplinary Studies") deal with big ideas in a pretty direct way. Such poems often run the risk of getting too abstract so that the reader is not drawn into the poem, but yours work. Why do you think yours do work?

First of all, thanks. I suppose the key is finding a good hook that gets both the writer and the reader into the poem. In both cases, I didn't start out with big ideas; I started with an image which I built on and riffed off until the big issues sort of emerged out of my unconscious.

Do you have any poetic pet peeves?

I don't like poems without any clear ideas, poems without any clear emotions, humorless poems, poems that pretend to be smarter or dumber than they are, poems that disdain their audiences, political poetry that puts politics first and poetry a distant second, religious poetry that puts religion first and poetry a distant second, or poems where the poet pretends to be taking great risks but is in fact preaching to some choir. That seems to be a long list, I know, but actually my tastes are pretty eclectic; I'm open to all sorts of poetry and I'm glad there's so much diversity of style.

Who are you currently reading?

As book review editor of Poemeleon, I'm currently reading Manthology, a

2006 University of Iowa Press gathering of both male and female poets discussing the male experience. There are great poems in it by Stephen Dunn, Jane Hirshfield, Sharon Doubiago, Norman Dubie, Jeffrey Harrison, and others. I also just finished Kim Addonizio's collection What Is This Thing Called Love, which is so beautiful and poignant and bluesy.

I just finished teaching A Confederacy of Dunces which I find brilliant and hilarious but which many of my students find annoying and confusing. I just began A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers, and so far I'm enjoying its formal inventiveness while also finding deep, authentic feeling in it.

If you could pass on only one piece of advice to fellow poets, what would it be?

Read as many other poets as you can. Buy their books. Get in touch with them. Learn from as many people as you can.

*****

To learn more about Tom C. Hunley, you can check out his bio through the Steel Toe Books website at http://www.wku.edu/~tom.hunley/steeltoebooks/.

And here are some of his poems found online:

* From Verse Daily

* From storySouth

* From Gumball Poetry

*****

And if you're a published poet looking for an interview opportunity, click here for more details.

Five Poet Survival Tips

Mon, 08 Dec 2008 16:42:38 GMT

Tammy and I have been busy preparing for Baby Will (due between now and 12/19--Tammy's scheduled C-section date). In addition, I've been putting in overtime on www.WritersMarket.com related stuff, teaching poetry courses at www.WritersOnlineWorkshops.com, and even helping out with some poetry-related issues on www.WritersDigest.com. While things have definitely been hectic, I've still been finding time to write and even made a new submission over the weekend. After all, poets don't make excuses; they write, right?

Anyway, I've talked with many writers over the years who say they don't "have time" to write. Or they're stuck on a line and can't seem to move ahead. Of course, they've often not written down that line that's got them blocked, which is a problem in and of itself.

So, here are some of my poet survival tips:

1. Always carry two pens. Pens are to poets as six-shooters are to cowboys. You need them to survive. Why two? Because if you're using your pens, one is sure to run out of ink at some point, which is when you pull out the back up writing utensil.

2. Always carry paper. I fold up one or two pieces of paper to carry with me at all times. Paper fits easily in pockets when folded. By following rules #1 and #2, you should be ready to write regardless of when inspiration strikes. If you can only carry pens or paper, always carry the pens.

3. Keep receipts--if you're without paper. While I almost never forget my pens, I do sometimes forget the paper. And receipts come in handy for overcoming my forgetfulness. I've actually written whole first drafts of poems on the back of receipts from the grocery, fast food, etc. Of course, a poet always has to be resourceful in this area--other surfaces that work are paper placemats, napkins, flyers, and, of course, even your own body.

4. Text yourself. If all else fails, you can always use your cell phone (if you have one with texting capabilities) to send lines to your e-mail account. Or you can save as drafts on your actual phone, though you'll want to make sure you have plenty of memory on your phone before doing this.

5. Keep paper pads or Post-It notes at your desk. Preferably, you'll have both. Whenever images or lines hit me, I scrawl them onto Post-Its. At lunch (or over the weekend), I can then look the lines and images over and see if I have the makings of a poem.

Bonus (and maybe most important) Tip:

Take it one line (or image) at a time. When an idea hits you, don't hold onto it and wait for more to arrive before getting it down on paper. Record that line or image immediately. If there's more on the verge of coming, it will come then. If not, you've just freed your mind to think of new related or un-related images and lines. If you want to get into the habit of always writing, this is the most sure fire way to get there.

Poets Helping Poets: What Makes a Great Chapbook?

Thu, 30 Oct 2008 21:34:51 GMT

In anticipation of the November PAD Challenge (which starts Saturday!), I threw out the above question to members of the Poetic Asides group on FaceBook: What makes a great chapbook?

Here's what some of them had to say:

An interesting mix of poems on the same theme, not always by the same writer but with visable threads which tie each piece together or take the reader on a journey, turning the page again and again.

Sue Forde

*****

I think that a great chapbook is written around a theme and its variations. That theme might be the subject, the place, the people in the poem, a primary metaphor.

The variations might even involve different forms, different rhythms--a different sense of momentum.

And the whole chapbook builds on an emotional arc (it may even build along a narrative arc, if that fits the theme).

Granted, neither of my chapbooks reflects that thinking, although parts of them do. But this is the way I'm writing and developing chapbooks now.

Joannie Stangeland

*****

A chapbook is a universe, and the poet is the solar designer. The planets and moons, no matter how far out, need to follow their own laws of gravity. From the quark to the gravitational force, it needs to make sense to the poet or editor, even if it remains a mystery for the audience.

Jesse Loren

*****

Consistency of vision: a motiff, a strong extended metaphor. Kinda like making a kick ass mix tape.

Scott Whitaker

*****

Here are some thoughts:

1.) Excellent writing, whether for poetry or prose; 2.) a good editor who knows how to place individual pieces together which work in harmony and add cohesiveness to the project; 3.) having an understanding the audience of the chapbook and knowing whether the intent is to entertain, inform, enlighten and/or give some cause for pause.

It helps to have a nice cover too, to initially attract an audience, but the work has to stand on its own once the cover is opened.

Rj Clarken

*****

A great chapbook: when the poems taken as a whole allow the book to function as the final poem of the collection. I think I'm plagarizing Robert Frost here.

Charlie Cote

*****

I think with a chapbook you should either go the route of trying for as much variety as possible, to show your full range. The danger with this can be the tendency towards being uneven.

The other option is to go the total opposite and have a unifying theme, build it so it is more like a concept album with each poem exploring facets of a larger idea. This runs the risk of going in the total opposite and having everything too samey.

I think sort the framework out and then kind of forget about it and just concentrate on the individual poems.

Paul Grimsley

*****

After having read dozens of chapbooks, and sent out numerous versions of chapbook manuscripts, some as sort of a variety pack, and some ordered so that there was a definitive narrative arc, I have determined that what works best and what most editors (and readers) seem to be looking for are collections that focus on a single theme.

Because they're small, they are easily read in one sitting, so a series of linked poems -- sonnets that explore the complicated relationship with the body, an abecedarian where each poem interrogates a single letter, a series of ekphrastic poems -- is a great way to go.

My chapbook Small Fruit Songs is a series of poems written on a single theme in a single form: fruit-related prose poems. Once I had the concept in place, I wrote the whole thing in under a week, and the first publisher I sent it to accepted it within just a couple of days.

Cati Porter

*****

A chapbook is an opportunity to focus, and every good chapbook I've read had a clear theme or stance, typically with an arc of development. As a small press publisher, I find that thematic development and careful arrangement is what makes a manuscript submission rise above, as opposed to the seemingly random compilation of a selection of one's poems.

In journalism, feature articles (as opposed to hard news) often hang on a "news peg," or something that connects the feature to current events in everyday life. It's a hook, and functions just like the musical hook in a pop song. As long as it remains intelligent and avoids excess gimmickry, I think the concept of chapbook should do the same.

Nancy Pagh won the 2008 Floating Bridge Press chapbook contest with her collection After, with each poem being written "after" a particular poet. Each spread starts with the epigraph on a left-hand page, with the poem on the right, so the idea is abundantly clear. That's the hook, the concept. In a way, it's like an invented bucket (or drawer) that readers can categorize the book into, thus making the book more accessible. The real substance is deeper, of course, and in Nancy's case it's the emotional sway that underpins the poems in their darkness and fearless grit.

The art of chapbooks, of course, is the limitless pursuit of different ways to create an original theme, a hook, a stance, finding the right balance between intrigue and challenge while avoiding facile or cliched gimmickry. A good chapbook not only has solid poems, but often has an idea behind their assembly that makes me wonder "Why didn't I think of that!"

Michael Dylan Welch

*****

A great chapbook excerpts the general aesthetic of the author, while allowing a little leeway for them to explore either something new, like style or form, or topical that might not fill a book. I would argue it's not a "teaser" or a "taste," rather, a chapbook is a complete and individual, shorter work that may appear, in whole or in parts, in a larger body of work later.

Todd Dillard

*****

I've just become Co-director of Flarestack Poets, a new incarnation of Flarestack Publishing which has a reputation for producing some of the best chapbooks (or pamphlets as we tend to call them in the UK) in Britain. Here's the statement we put together that explains what we think makes a great chapbook:

We're looking for poetry that dares outside current trends, even against the grain... collections that aren't bus queues or greatest hits albums from poets who are forging their own linguistic connections with the root-ball of experience.

Jacqui Rowe

*****

Content (especially poems or prose pieces that work together to form a whole) coupled with design. A chapbook should feel good in the palm of your hand, should look good sitting on the edge of your desk.

Corey Mesler

*****

This is an interesting question since I will soon be judging a chapbook contest for Rosemetal Press. I'm interested in reading your summary post to get some insights.

The challenge I faced in putting together my own chapbook manuscript (I Call This Flirting, Flume Press 04) was fighting against the brevity of the form. My first stabs at ordering the short-shorts (it's flash fiction, not poetry) made the book read like running water. You just zipped right through with no stopping points. In this way, the early drafts seemed neutral as a whole. I was trying too hard to make it "flow." It didn't work.

I decided to break it up into sections--putting in resting points as it were. The section break pages each quote a made-up fortune cookie fortune... The sections are thematic but not obviously so. After I did this, the chapbook seemed longer and fuller. I also frontloaded it with the most powerful work (in my opinion, of course) leading the chapbook.

Unlike a novel or a full-length collection of poetry or stories, I think with a chapbook you have less time to build momentum. So your challenge is to artificially create the kind of depth a reader experiences with a longer work. A chapbook invites an all-in-one-sitting reading so I guess that ups the reader expectation in a way...

When I love a chapbook, there's a kind of resonance and completion when I hit the last page. It makes me want to look the whole little book over again, amazed that it's so short but seems long. I want to think about it, and then pick and choose favorites as I reread--not in order--the second time.

Sherrie Flick

*****

A great chapbook, to me, connects in some kind of way. It doesn't have to be a theme, but something weaves them together. Maybe it can be a chapbook about, say, a relative, and all the poems mention that relative and it can be titled after that relative. Also, chapbooks should be short (like 10-20 pages) and consist of the BEST poems, no fillers. Not poems that can't stand on their own.

Melissa McEwen

*****

Stature: If it has the stature of a book, it is a great chapbook.

Sally Evans

Interview With Poet Nin Andrews

Wed, 29 Oct 2008 02:43:24 GMT

I don't usually post interviews on back-to-back days, but I thought I'd make an exception in this case, because it might be the last interview posted until after November with this November PAD (poem-a-day) challenge coming up. And I'm just so excited to share Nin Andrews with anyone who hasn't read her work.

You see, there are poets who seek me out for interviews; there are poets who I seek for interviews; and then, there are cases where me and another poet just kind of bump into each other. In the case of Nin Andrews, I was definitely seeking her out after picking up (at random) one of her previous collections, Why They Grow Wings (Silverfish Review Press).

Since I'm an editor, I've always got more books than I can possibly read, but I was hooked from the first line of this--to me, anyway--previously unknown poet. After doing a little research, I learned she was not such an unknown quantity, in addition to learning--to my delight--that she recently released two other collections, Sleeping With Houdini (BOA Editions, Ltd.) and Dear Professor, Do You Live in a Vacuum? (Subito Press).

Here's a favorite of mine from Sleeping With Houdini:

Sleeping for Kafka

I heard on the radio this morning that prayers can heal. Experiments demonstrate that cancer patients who are prayed for, even by an anonymous person, have a better prognosis than those who receive no prayers.

A person can purchase prayers from Grace Church in Kansas by dialing 1-800-prayers. Visa and Mastercard are accepted.

I read that Kafka, a chronic insomniac, felt refreshed after watching his beloved sleep. Sometimes he invited her over, just to admire how she draped herself over his couch, wrapped in immaculate rest.

Some speculate it was the dreams of his beloved he wrote.

Thoughts like dreams drift from mind to mind. Some are heavy and sink to the ground or disappear under water where they grow like sea plants, while others are light and glide upwards like helium molecules.

When Jacob saw angels going up and down a ladder, they were merely tracing his thoughts.

Nietzsche said few people think their own thoughts. Instead they are thought. Many people are dreamt and prayed. They are like seashells inhabited by hermit crabs.

Most of us have no clue whose dream we are.

And with that, here is the interview:

What are you currently up to?

I'm working on two projects, one which I hope might become a New and Selected Orgasms. And another, which is a set of essays and longer prose poems that are very loosely linked by an economic theme. Or money. (I know it sounds boring, so I'm hoping that's not the case.) I was always told as a child not to talk about sex, politics, or money, and I always do what I am told not to do.

I've read that you grew up on a farm. How do you feel your childhood shaped you as a poet?

As a child, I spent a lot of time at the barn with the horses, cows, cats, and chickens. I also spent hours just staring at things—catching tadpoles, or watching ants pull crumbs or dead ants, or bees load up on pollen as they went from flower to flower. We didn't have a TV or neighbors or other forms of distraction, so I spent a lot of my time daydreaming. I think it's that empty space or time in my days I became used to as a kid that has shaped me most. It's the space I still need in order to write or solve problems or just stay sane.

In our correspondence, you mentioned that you've noticed a shift in your writing from more surreal work in your first collection (The Book of Orgasms) to more a storytelling style in your book due out next fall (Southern Comfort). Do you think there's a reasoning or natural progression behind moving from the surreal to storytelling?

I tend to do the opposite of what I am told. Write what you know, my first teachers suggested. But I have never been a big fan of reality. Reality feels like sandpaper on my skin. Sometimes I think I would love to escape the everyday world, and just move into the imagination forever. Music, philosophy, dance, poetry, painting – they all help me do just that. Like good drugs, they offer an alternative to reality. So initially I tried not to write my personal story.

But then, at a certain point, I started thinking about my childhood, and my children used to ask me about my past. And I would tell them stories. Stories about the time the one-armed man who worked on our farm shot a rabid fox. About the time the same man got drunk and let the heifers run loose on the freeway. About this crazy lady who came to the farm and taught me to see ghosts and read palms. Or about a man called Toby who would walk up the dirt road on bare feet some days, and then go down to the mud pond to catch snapping turtles. He said he caught them by feeling in the mud with his toes.

My children wanted me to tell these stories again and again, especially when I imitated the voices of the farmhands, my father, my mother, the crazy people, and the different animals and so on. They said I should write them down. But it's not easy for me to write about the farm. It's a bit like trying to break an ocean into drops. And of course, I don't have an ability to see these pieces objectively.

From your first collection to your most recent, you've written a lot of your poems in the prose format. What do you like about the prose poem?

In the beginning, I wanted to write carefully crafted mini-tales. And the prose poem is designed for that. After a while I became interested in all the ways a prose poem can borrow from other forms. So there are prose poems that are like fables, myths and parables, prose poems that are like interviews, love letters, fan letters, horoscopes, plays, advertisements, news reports, etc. There's so much versatility in the prose poem format. And great opportunities for humor.

Do you feel the structure of poems helps influence the content?

Yes. I think line breaks, for example, are content. The same poem written with line breaks and without them—can have an entirely different effect. And meaning.

I think choosing a form is like choosing a design for a house. If you have a big open space with skylights and a stage, that's one kind of experience. If you build a large house with a bazillion tiny rooms, that's another experience.

You mention that the poems in Dear Professor, Do You Live in a Vacuum? are inspired by actual comments, notes and questions from your husband's students. Where do you find that you draw the line between reality and fantasy in your own poetry?

In most of my writing, I try to keep reality off-kilter somehow. To offer at least a tiny escape from reality. I do this in different ways, depending on the book. In Dear Professor, I use humor to create that escape.

In the orgasm poems, I am sometimes taking a literal reality and making it surreal. Or a philosophical discussion and putting it in an absurd context. I have, for example, an interview with an orgasm. That poem began when I saw the debate between Senator Bentsen and Senator Quayle. When Bentsen said: Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy, I imagined one orgasm saying to a fake orgasm, Orgasms are my friends. I know orgasms, and you? You're no orgasm.

In the southern poems, I mix up the characters, recast a father as a farmhand, an uncle as a father, my friend's mother as my own mother, so that I can gain some objectivity. I want each poem to speak for itself, not for my experience. A poem, I like to think, has its story to tell, its own truth.

The poems in Sleeping With Houdini seem very tightly wound together. When you're putting together a collection, do you start with an idea and start writing the poems to complete that idea? Or do you write poems and then fill the gaps after you notice a pattern developing?

I will write on one subject for months at a time. I end up with a heap of poems that cling to one another like static electricity. It's a nightmare to try to organize my obsessions. To try to make a pattern out of chaos. It's a little like attempting to take tiny pieces of old fabric and sew them into a beautiful dress.

Who are you currently reading?

I was just reading Shirley Jackson. She reminds me a little of my father, her dark sensibility. And Mark Halliday's new collection, Keep This Forever, which is as brilliant and smart-assed as Halliday always is. And The Lover by Duras, which is fabulous, of course. It's interesting, now that I think about it. All of these books are taking a bite out of my peace of mind. But they are all teaching me things.

I've also been reading Rick Bursky's The Soup of Something Missing, a little collection I think everyone should read. He's a poet I'm crazy about. And Carol Maldow's The Widening, a book about sexual awakening. She calls it a novel, but it's not. It reads like a memoir written in prose poems. Each page is a chapter. Each page is a beautiful prose poem.

If you had one piece of advice to share with other poets, what would it be?

I never follow advice, so I don't usually give any either.

For me writing is a little like keeping the barn clean. Every day I check over my work and see if there are any manure balls I need to remove. And every day there are. For sure. So I'm never surprised by a rejection. And I'm always amazed by an acceptance. That someone took something of mine, cow pies and all. So I'm grateful for even the tiniest forms of acceptance.

Not that that's advice. It's just the way I survive the poetry business side of being a poet. And how I keep writing.

*****

* Check out Nin's blog at http://ninandrewswriter.blogspot.com/

* Click here for more information on Sleeping With Houdini

Want to workshop some poems?

Tue, 14 Oct 2008 02:28:44 GMT

Just realized that poets can sign up for my upcoming Advanced Poetry course at WritersOnlineWorkshops.com. There are no required texts, but there will be workshopping, communicating and new poems.

If you're interested, you can learn more at http://www.writersonlineworkshops.com/retail/courses.aspx?r=advanced-poetry-Writing-workshop.

The course begins on November 6th and lasts 6 weeks. Hope to see you there.

Exclusive Interview With Poet Diane Lockward

Tue, 07 Oct 2008 16:07:41 GMT

Recently, it seemed as if a lot of the poetry I was reading had something to do with food, and today's interview subject played a significant role in me feeling that way. After all, Diane Lockward's most recent collection from Wind Publications is titled What Feeds Us (winner of the 2006 Quentin R. Howard Poetry Prize), which definitely feeds the senses and the soul.

Diane is the author of two previous collections of poetry, Eve's Red Dress (Wind Publications) and a chapbook, Against Perfection (Poets Forum Press). She is a former high school English teacher and runs an annual poetry festival in her home State of New Jersey.

Here's one of my favorites from What Feed Us:

Hurricane Season

Films of dense tissue swirling like storm clouds.
Specks of light inside, and at the center, a fibroid,
glistening like the lodestar that led the Wise Men
to Jesus. Microcalcification, cluster, fibroadenosis--
words with the force of hurricane winds--
cyst, lump, mass.

Warnings on the screen: a hurricane pounding
the coast. Isabel, like my friend's daughter.
People in North Carolina taping window panes,
boarding up homes. Wind so fierce it rips
a building from its foundation,
picks up a woman and hurls her onto concrete.

Ultrasound, MRI. A file on me now, stored
in a basement, as if I were a secret agent or a spy.
Words from a book on torture:
aspiration, fine needle, thick needle, core
biopsy, the rack of a stereotactic table. A list
of possibilities: stage 1, 2, 3, or 4;
mild pain, moderate pain, extreme pain.

A swath of heavy rain from Cape Fear
to the South Santee River. Whirling confusion
of sand pelting, cars fleeing. Radar. Doppler scan.
Category 5, 4, 3, 2. Satellite photos--
Isabel swirling, a mass on the screen,
eye at the center like a nipple.

Days of waiting for the phone to ring,
the hurricane coming closer and closer.
Days of wondering, How will I tell my daughter?
Waiting and waiting, braced for landfall.

Here's the interview:

What are you currently up to?

I'm zeroing in on the completion of a third book, patiently attempting to nurse into existence the handful of poems I need to flesh out the collection. This new collection began with an idea and the poems are kind of falling into place around that idea. This is a departure from the first two books where I was not aware of any connection among the poems as I wrote them, but once I had 50-55 poems that I thought were respectable, I gathered them together and found some unifying idea. So this time I'm working in the opposite direction. I wonder if that signifies anything?

In What Feeds Us, food plays an important role. Also, the body. Could you elaborate on what you were trying to accomplish with this collection?

The epigraph that precedes the poems really says what I had in mind. I took this from M.F.K. Fisher's book, The Gastronomical Me: ". . . there is nourishment in the heart, to feed the wilder, more insistent hungers." The poems consider what nourishes us or fails to nourish us, what sustains us or doesn't. There is literal food, thus poems about fruits, vegetables, and pasta. There is family, thus poems about parents and children, both present and missing. There's love and sex, thus poems about the body and its various parts. There's fullness and its opposite, hunger.

Oddly, although I write a lot about food, I've always been a fussy eater. But perhaps that fussiness is at the heart of my obsession. When I got married, I vowed to love, honor, and never again eat liver.

As a follow-up question, what are your thoughts, in general, on the importance of food and body for poets? Do you feel diet and physical health influence poets' writing habits?

I think of food as a metaphor for the body. Just think how interchangeable the words are that we use to describe one or the other. For example, a tomato may be round, plump, luscious, full of seeds, ripe, firm, succulent, rotten at the center. Likewise a body. Sometimes when I talk about food, I am really talking about the body. For many of us, the body is a source of dissatisfaction, disappointment, fear, pain. Food can be a substitute for what the body is missing, for its unsatisfied longings. It can be the cause of physical ailments or it can help cure those ailments. Food is full of vitamins but also loaded with irony and thus rich with poetic potential. Certainly self-image and health affect our writing. I can't eat tomatoes, but I can write about my longing for them. I can't write well when I'm in a period of insomnia, but when I'm rested, I can write a poem about sleeplessness.

I noticed there was a business card tucked into the copy of What Feeds Us that I received. Do you feel business cards help with the promotion of the book?

The business card is the new beret. Seriously, most poets I know have a business card. Not that what we do has anything to do with the business world, but sometimes at a reading someone asks how I can be reached. The card contains contact information and is handy to give out. I really hadn't planned to have one, but I wanted postcards with my book's cover art to supplement the press release my publisher was sending out. So I uploaded the cover image to vistaprint.com—a wonderful service—and designed the postcard. Once I did that, I then received an offer from the company for companion business cards. The price was so reasonable I couldn't say no. I ordered 250 which I expect will be a lifetime supply. Do they help with the promotion of the book? I doubt that they directly affect sales, but I think they help with getting readings and workshops and those sell a few books.

You run an annual poetry festival in New Jersey. Could you talk a little about this event?

I've run this event for the past five years. I had an idea for a festival that would be a bit different from the poet-centered festival. I was thinking of one that would be journal-centered. My local library had just finished a big

expansion and put a note in their newsletter that they were interested in new programs. I pitched my idea and the librarians liked it. The first festival was a success, so it's become an annual event.

Each year I invite twelve editors to participate. The size of the festival is dictated by the size of the library, but I don't think I'd want it much bigger. Each journal is represented by two poets who are invited by the journal's editor. So we have twenty-four poets reading throughout the four-hour event. In a separate area the editors display their journals on tables and have submission guidelines and subscription forms.

Each year the word spreads and the festival gets better and better, now bringing in around 250 people. It's a festive and exciting day that pulls together editors, poets, and poetry lovers. The main focus is on the journals and the editors. The purpose of the event is to honor the editors who give us a place for our work and to thank them for the work they do in the service of poetry. No one gets paid, but poets do sell books. And lots of journals are sold.

The festival is also part of my larger mission to help build the audience for poetry. Whitman said, "To have great poets there must be great audiences too." I'd love to see similar festivals popping up across the country.

How important do you feel community is to poets?

I arrived at poetry late. By the time I found it, I had three kids and a full-time teaching job. No time for an MFA! Instead, I went to workshops and summer conferences. I took some courses at a nearby college. I went to readings and met other poets. I was getting my poetry education and, at the same time, becoming part of a poetry community.

I'm sure that most of my neighbors don't know I'm a poet. Perhaps they wonder what I do all day inside my house. I doubt they'd be terribly interested to know that I'm writing and reading poetry. So I've had to find people who are interested. I've been in a group for seven years, ever since I left full-time teaching. We meet at my house once a month. I also belong to a women poets' listserv. For the past three years I've run a three-day poetry retreat for six or seven women poets. We meet in a hotel at the Jersey shore and spend our time writing and reading poetry. I value the stimulation, feedback, and support other poets provide.

What (or who) are you currently reading?

I've been reading Lola Haskins' Desire Lines and Sheryl St. Germain's Let It Be a Dark Roux, both new and selected collections and both wonderful. Each poet has a hard edge and a passion that I really like. My kitchen table is a disgrace. I am always vowing to clear it off, but as soon as I do, more books come into the house. That table is piled up with books waiting for my attention. And I just returned from the Dodge Poetry Festival, so I have a plump list of books to order. Those are just the poetry books. I'm also finishing up Richard Russo's novel, Bridge of Sighs, and recently finished two nonfiction books, Donald Hall's The Best Day the Worst Day: Life with Jane Kenyon, and David Sheff's Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction, both heart-wrenching books.

If you could pass on only one piece of advice to other poets, what would it be?

I'm not a minimalist, so I'll offer my three mantras: 1) Weird is good; embrace it. 2) Be alert. 3) Go forth boldly.

*****

Here are some links for more Diane Lockward:

* Website for her festival: http://dianelockward.com/fest8.html

* Diane's personal site: www.dianelockward.com

* Diane's blog: http://dianelockward.blogspot.com

*****

And if you're a poet or editor looking to get interviewed, find out more about how to go about doing that by clicking here.

Exclusive Interview With Poet Aimee Nezhukumatathil

Fri, 26 Sep 2008 17:27:29 GMT

One of the cool things about this blog is that very talented poets actually contact me about their poetry--either because they read the blog or are referred by their very talented poet friends. One such talented poet is Aimee Nezhukumatathil, who's the author of At the Drive-In Volcano (2007), winner of the Balcones Prize, and Miracle Fruit (2003), winner of the ForeWord Magazine Poetry Book of the Year and the Global Filipino Award--both collections published by Tupelo Press. Aimee also has new poems appearing in Ploughshares, Antioch Review and American Poetry Review. She is an associate professor of English at SUNY-Fredonia.

Her work is detailed and often science-based, but there's also a sense of adventure, desire and love that helps make her writing both relevant and accessible at the same time. For instance, here is one of my favorite poems from her collection At the Drive-In Volcano:

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia
The fear of long words

On the first day of classes, I secretly beg
my students, Don't be afraid of me. I know
my last name on your semester schedule

is chopped off or probably misspelled--
or both. I can't help it. I know the panic
of too many consonants rubbed up
against each other, no room for vowels

to fan some air into the room of a box
marked Instructor. You want something
to startle you? Try tapping the ball

of roots of a potted tomato plant
into your cupped hand one spring, only
to find a small black toad who kicks
and blinks his cold eye at you,

the sun, a gnat. Be afraid of the x-rays
for your teeth or lung. Pray for no
dark spots. You may have

pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis:
coal lung. Be afraid of money spiders tiptoeing
across your face while you sleep on a sweet, fat couch.
But don't be afraid of me, my last name, what language

I speak or what accent dulls itself on my molars.
I will tell jokes, help you see the gleam
of the beak of a mohawked cockatiel. I will

lecture on luminescent sweeps of ocean, full of tiny
dinoflagellates oozing green light when disturbed.
I promise dark gatherings of toadfish and comical shrimp
just when you think you are alone, hoping to stay somehow afloat.

Here's the interview:

What are you currently up to?

I'm on sabbatical right now and last month I traveled to the Georgia Aquarium to fulfill a life-long dream/research project on whale sharks. I swam with four whale sharks and about 6,000 other fish, including a giant hammerhead. It was, to put it plainly--short of my wedding and the birth of my first child--the most exhilarating experience of my life. I'm working on an environmental children's book about the whale shark and a series of young adult poems. Meanwhile, it seems like I have been putting the finishing touches on my new manuscript for forever, but this time I mean it. This past summer, I had a mammoth 120+ page manuscript, so some serious slash-and-burn took place. My husband and I just bought a new house and we'll be moving in less than a month so I am also staring at various paint color chips scattered on my office floor.

At the Drive-In Volcano includes several references to location. So I'm wondering how important is location to your work?

I'm very particular when it comes to describing a landscape. For me, as both a reader and a writer, landscape is the very anchor (or at least one of them) for the whole poem to stand. Much of my writing comes from a life unsettled (having lived in seven different states since childhood) and to write about what a slice of land looks like or feels like is perhaps my way of mooring myself within the white space of a poem. The nature writer Gretel Erlich said that part of what helped shed her outsider status was to become a part of a place where "a person's life is a slow accumulation of days, seasons, and years, anchored by a land-bound sense of place." I have something very close to that "slow accumulation" here in Western NY, thank goodness, but at heart, there is still a wanderer in me.

Nature plays a role in the collection--from taking pictures next to volcanoes to taking the fins off sharks. Is science and the natural world a fascination of yours outside of writing?

One of the most common questions I get when I am a visiting writer is some variation of "Are the relationships/break-ups in your poems real?" My answer is that I can say that in poems that touch upon a romantic relationship, the biggest mistake one can make is assuming that the "I" of the poems is really me. I like to think of it as a composite or a sort of mosaic of a person, who just happens to have some similar qualities to me, but is not really me. But something that I'm very proud of content-wise, is that as you read through the book, you can be sure that any of the scientific or nature "trivia" found in my poems is all factually true. I didn't make up anything just for the sake of the poem, or because it 'sounded' better. So when I say in my poems that there is a wasp that can fly away holding a lizard in the clutches of its wee legs, or that when an octopus becomes stressed, it eats its own arms, I'm not just trying to conjure up some make-believe tra-la-la just to evoke a certain mood. Mother Nature is the greatest poet of all. I just take my cues from her. There's no way I could ever top the poems she gives us every single day. Just step outside and look around.

I read on your website that you have a dachshund named Villanelle. While reading your collection, I noticed you used the villanelle more than I'm used to seeing from other poets. Could you speak about both the villanelle and Villanelle?

The villanelle form is one of my favorite formal structures in poetry. I love to teach it, I love to write them. The repetition of the form lends itself to jumping in even deeper to an obsession. All the lines of the villanelles in my book are enjambed—that is, I don't actually repeat a complete line and barely even use the same rhyming word, unlike the 'traditional' villanelles in the vein of Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle," where whole lines are completely used again throughout the poem. People say an enjambed villanelle is more difficult to compose, but for me, finding a subject (let alone a line!) that bears repeating again and again is easier said than done. I adore puzzling through the possibilities of unexpected rhymes in the villanelle. Also? I love that the rhyme scheme is "aba aba aba aba aba abaa." Just saying it out loud cracks me up. As for my dachshund, Villanelle—she's taking an 'extended spa vacation' with my folks in Florida, as she did not take too kindly to a new baby in the house. But she has home-cooked (yes, I said cooked) meals from my mom and even though I miss her terribly, we visit often and she is generally living a glamorous life every dachshund dreams about. I almost named her "Strudel."

In the poem "Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia," subtitled "The fear of long words," you write a reassuring poem to students about the length and spelling of your last name. Do you have a particular instance of a student having trouble with your name?

Oh, too many to mention in this space. I've had students say after the first day of classes that they were relieved because they thought I was going to be "one of them foreign guys who can't pronounce anything right." (Way to make a good first impression on your professor, no?) All during elementary school and high school, I felt like I had to explain so much of my culture to well-meaning friends and boyfriends. They knew I was American—had no accent whatsoever, but yet I was still different in lots of ways to them. It's funny, because my writing is still a lot of that "explaining" I think. Why I couldn't do this or that, why we eat this or that, etc. In the 70s, the pediatricians in Chicago (where I was born) routinely told immigrant families to teach children ENGLISH and only ENGLISH, else they would be ridiculed in school, etc. They really drilled this into my parents' minds, and even though my mom is a doctor herself, she was scared into following the orders. I wish I could hunt him down and slap him. I feel so cheated that I missed out on learning 2 beautiful languages: Tagalog and Malayalam. Never ever wanted to shorten my name. Even my husband didn't want me to take his name—he knows it is such a part of me that I would never want to lose. I think because my sister and I were raised in suburban neighborhoods where my family was the ONLY family of color, I was so used to having to 'explain' my (then) unusual packed lunches of lumpia and fried rice, etc. Or having fish for breakfast, etc. So I think in some ways, you could say I spent my whole childhood and teen years building a language that is accessible and vibrant. Poetry was finding its way through my everyday language before I ever knew what was going on.

Who are you currently reading?

My sabbatical reading list keeps getting longer, but the most recent reads include poet Paula Bohince whose new poems just blew me away, and a gaggle of children's literature to get a feel for what is out there as I work on my book on the whale shark. I am still plugging away on this almost 600-page long The Culinary History of Food. It's a veritable doorstop, but chock full of fascinating bits. It covers food culture in ancient hominids to the intricacies of canned food. I particularly found the section on medieval cooking to be a gas! I realize that those sentences make me sound like a huge nerd and you would be right to think so, but it's a must-read for any foodie. For fiction, I was a little late to the party, but I just finished reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road--as close to a masterpiece as I ever read. It's also the last book that made me cry.

If you could pass on one piece of advice to other poets, what would it be?

Oh, I have lots of little morsels of advice: read often and a lot. Floss. Invest in a good pair of shoes and write letters more often. Listen to the paper take the ink when you sign your name.

Finally, and a little off topic, who's going to win the Big Game this year? Ohio State or Michigan?

Clearly, you did not do your research, Good Sir. The Buckeyes may have dashed the hearts of their fans to smithereens by getting obliterated by USC this month, but this is the Tressel era: OSU 35, UM 3.

*****

Apologies go out to any Michigan fans who (probably now formerly) read the blog, but I noticed that Aimee was a Buckeye fan, and while I'm moving to Georgia on Monday, I just had to get a prediction from a poet on how that game is going to go down. (Btw, any USC fans watch the game last night? Go Beavers!)

To find out more about Aimee and her work, I suggest checking out her website at www.aimeenez.net.

*****

Also, Tupelo Press, the publishers of Aimee's two collections, have a website at www.tupelopress.org.

Poetry FAQs: When is something considered published?

Thu, 25 Sep 2008 16:59:42 GMT

Okay, this question has been coming up a lot recently in the comments section of this blog: What counts as previously published? And, in relation to this blog, does posting a poem in the comments of this blog mean it's "published"?

Before I begin, I think it would be beneficial for you to read this post from former co-blogger and Poet's Market editor Nancy Breen about the whole publishing question in "Published is Published!"

For Individual Poems

Many editors consider anything published anywhere at any time under any circumstances as published. This can even include public readings. And if a publication specifies what they consider published in their guidelines, it would behoove a poet (or any writer really) to respect the editor's considerations.

With such editors, a poem posted anywhere counts as publication, whether it's posted in a public forum or blog, or even a private, password-protected location online. In such cases, poems posted on this blog would be considered "previously published." However, there are editors who take a slightly different view.

Some editors consider a poem unpublished if it only displays on a personal blog and/or is in a "draft" form in a forum or blog. That is, if your poem on Poetic Asides is only a rough draft and not the final version, it would not be considered "previously published." If editors do not specify what they consider previously published, there's a good chance they fall into this camp.

For Poetry Collections

Except for rare cases, most editors/publishers of poetry collections accept previously published poems as long as the collection itself has not been previously published. Actually, the fact that poems are previously published usually helps in getting the collection published. That said, do NOT try to use poems posted on a personal blog or public forum as a publishing credit. Such credits hold little weight, since there is usually no screening process, because eveyone can get published.

My main point here is that individual poems that are considered published by journals can still be considered unpublished as components of a poetry collection. And that even individual poems that are considered published are welcome in "original" collections of poems.

In fact, "new collections" can be made from selecting poems from previous full-length collections and chapbooks.

So, How Should Poets Proceed?

Armed with your knowledge of what is and is not considered published, you've just got to pick your battles and act accordingly. For instance, most of my poems are not published on my blog, because I want to have as many publishing options available to me as possible. I share drafts of these "unpublished" poems with close poet friends to solicit feedback for revisions.

The poems I post as parts of prompts, I consider "published," though I would not use it as a publishing credit if I tried including any of them in a collection, because I also consider my poems on this blog to be "vanity publication credits." I make an informed decision to write a poem a week just for the act of creation.

Considering how much money most published poets make anyway, I don't view this as such a bad decision. But every poet has to make this decision on their own.

Exclusive Interview With Poet and Attorney John M. FitzGerald

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 14:04:16 GMT

This interview came about from an earlier interview with poet and actress Hélène Cardona. Sometime in June, Hélène mentioned that John M. FitzGerald's most recent collection, Telling Time by the Shadows (Turning Point), was actually a collection of secret love poems written by him to her.

"These are the poems John wrote when we first met," says Hélène. "We met at a reading he did at Beyond Baroque in Venice. After that we communicated through poetry, sending each other poems by mail or e-mail for the longest time before we even had a date. It's a very 18th century story."

Needless to say, I was definitely intrigued. John originally sent his poems to Hélène as "prayer poems," so as not to let on they were to her. Eventually, the secret broke, and they both went on to live happily ever after.

FitzGerald, a dual citizen of the United States and Ireland, has published in numerous journals and anthologies. Spring Water, a novel in verse, was a Turning Point Books prize selection in 2005. His other collections include The Mind, The Charter of Effects, Question Creation and The Zeroth Law. He recently completed his first novel, Primate, and turned it into a screenplay.

Here's a poem from Telling Time by the Shadows:

"Magus"

I would be one of the wanderers,
with heaven watching.
Observe, you reflections, I glance away.

Notice the wonder spring forth in ancientness,
steep the spell held in spices, hypnotized.
In dreams I descend twenty steps at a time,

am afraid how I'll land if I fly too high.
I try not to say I, and claim myself,
a sign of consciousness uncovering.

Who calls me, from such transience?
We will ourselves into vastness,
like children at graves,

a wind with just one chance to blow,
both toward and away from itself in surprise,
or life is waste.

There are shooting stars, then that which lingers,
even hovers like a hawk, a halo, a messenger.
None can bear looking straight into the sun.

We see it reflect off the ocean by day, the moon at night.
Imagine someone's sun fly away.
What must it search for, in its burning?

Galaxies witness it bursting through silence.
May it hover to the end in spite of where it finds itself.
Let innocence cling to the universe, swirling,

get high and go hungry, distill our minds
till we can't control what pours from inside,
and at heart remain addicts, ever humble.

And with that, let's get into the interview:

What are you currently up to?

I recently finished a new manuscript of poetry, The Zeroth Law. It's actually more of a cross between poetry and literary nonfiction that compares the beliefs of the world’s major religions to history, myth and science.

You're in a relationship with poet Hélène Cardona. So I'm wondering if you could share what it's like to be in a relationship with another poet?

Hélène is great. She is the love of my life and my best friend and a pleasure to be around. People say we're joined at the hip. I'm not so sure that being in a relationship with another poet is so different than being in a relationship with a person in any other occupation. You have to make time for both the vocational and creative aspects of life, while continuing to recognize the things that brought you together in the first place. I was used to being alone to write and it took some adjustment for me. But it helps that we have a lot of the same interests and can bounce things off of one another. And it helps that she is brilliant, too.

Your collection Telling Time by the Shadows is actually a collection of "secret" love poems you wrote to Cardona, which you called Prayer Poems at the time. Could you re-cap a little on how this developed, including when/how Cardona finally learned their actual purpose?

Yes. It's a collection of poems of love and longing. I first met Hélène when she approached me after a reading I did at Beyond Baroque, in Venice . She told me how great my poems were, and of course, I was immediately stunned by her presence. As time went on, we kept meeting again and again at local poetry events. We talked and exchanged poems.

But Hélène is an impressive person. I was always certain that it was only the poetry she was interested in, rather than me in a romantic sense. We began to meet and take very long walks along the beach, from Santa Monica to Malibu , almost daily. During these walks we would hardly speak at all. We would then each return to our separate homes, and send each other poems and letters by e-mail and post.

At that time, as it happened, I was working on what I then referred to as "The Prayer Poems." These were prayers in the traditional sense, that they were directed toward a deity. But in these poems, God is really a woman.

In your own opinion, what makes for a good "secret" love poem?

I think a good secret love poem is one that is universal. You cannot give yourself away completely. Hélène actually began to hope the poems were about her.

You work as an attorney, which I'm sure eats up a lot of time and can be psychologically draining. How do you balance your poetry with your day job?

I write every night. It's just a matter of habit. I wouldn't feel normal if I didn't do it.

Could you explain what inspired Spring Water (Turning Point), a novel in verse about the life of a serial killer?

When I was in law school, I read a number of cases in criminal law and criminal procedure, in which defendants being tried for murder raised the defense of insanity, stating that God, or the devil had told them to kill. But the case that stuck with me the most did not arise in the context of crimes, but in the context of wills and trusts. It was the infamous Tylenol case, to which we now owe the tamper-proof cap.

In this sad case, a newlywed couple was called on their honeymoon in Hawaii , and informed that the groom's brother had suddenly and unexpectedly died. The couple cut their honeymoon short, and returned for the funeral. After the ceremony, there was a reception held at the home of the deceased. Both the new husband and wife took the very same Tylenol, and died within an hour of one another. Since they both had wills leaving everything to the other, the issue was which one to enforce. The killer was never caught. That really stuck with me.

You have lived in England , Italy , and Santa Monica . I'm going to put you on the spot and ask which is your favorite place to live and why?

Santa Monica . I love it here. I was born here. But I'm also a citizen of Ireland . I lived England 2 years and couldn't wait to come home. But now I sort of miss it, and will make it a point to go back – for a visit. My mother's side of the family has a vineyard in Amorosi, near Naples . It's pretty great there too. But since you said "live," I'm sticking with Santa Monica , for now. Who knows, I might feel the need to move to Ireland , depending on who wins the election.

As a follow-up question, do you think travel helps with the poetic writing process?

I'm sure that anything outside the ordinary, everyday experience must help with the creative process. As beautiful as Santa Monica is, you can only write about the beach so many times before you bore yourself to television.

If you could share only one piece of advice with other poets, what would it be?

Read, read, read.

*****

Check out Turning Point Books at http://www.turningpointbooks.com.

Check out John's website at http://jmfitzgerald.com.

And finally, check out Cardona's website at http://www.helenecardona.com.

*****

Poetic Asides is loaded with great poet interviews. To view them all, go to: http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/CategoryView,category,Poet%20Interviews.aspx.

Fundamentals of Poetry Writing

Thu, 04 Sep 2008 19:48:15 GMT

Just want to remind people they can sign up for my Fundamentals of Poetry Writing course offered on WritersOnlineWorkshops.com by going to: http://www.writersonlineworkshops.com/retail/courses.aspx?r=fundamentals-of-poetry-writing.

It should be a fun and informative course that gives poets a chance to write some new poems and receive feedback from peers and myself. The online course runs from September 18 to December 10.

Also, keep a look out for an Advanced Poetry Writing course I'll be heading up on the site from November 6 to December 17.

*****

And as long as I'm at it, might as well mention that you can (and should) sign up for the free monthly Poet's Market e-newsletter at www.poetsmarket.com. This monthly message is put together by me and includes some information that is not offered on this blog.

Poetry FAQs: Having what it takes to be a poet

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 14:11:41 GMT

Earlier this week, I received a long e-mail from an anonymous Poetic Asides reader who asked important questions I'm sure all poets have asked themselves at some point or another in their poetic development. Here's some of the e-mail:

"I want to put together a book of poetry. I have the subject already in mind. Here's the thing. I am a fly-by-night poet. I have a hard question for you. Do you think I have what it takes to make it as a poet from having read some of my work?

"I sent in six poems to a local competition this year and didn't make it even as an honorable mention. I also sent in five or six to the Writer's Digest competition in December. I haven't heard anything, so am assuming that I didn't make the cut. Now we are talking 100 poets who made it, and I didn't get there.

"Anyway, I turn to you in a moment of despair. I am feeling low and just want a crumb to pull me out of this mist. However, honesty is what I need."

And my honesty is what this poet will get.

First, I don't advise poets to try thinking about putting together books of poetry until they've published some individual poems. It's not that a poet can't do this, but by entering competitions, I'm assuming that a poet wants some kind of recognition, and publication is a great form of recognition.

Second, contests are great, but they are competitions, which means there are several other poets battling it out for the top poem(s). If Writer's Digest recognizes 100 poets, for instance, then they must receive thousands of entries for the competition. Keep in mind that most competitions produce a minority of winners and a majority of losers.

Third, I'd suggest spending less time entering competitions and instead submitting to online and print publications that publish poetry that fits your style. Yes, this means you should devote time to reading online and print journals to see what fits. (Note: This is also a great way to learn from what works and doesn't work in other poets' poems.)

Fourth, it sounds like you need involvement with other poets, whether online or in person. I would suggest trying to get a small critique group together, either by contacting other poets online or trying to do so locally--either through your local library or bookstore. You'd be surprised how many poets are all around us.

Finally, only you can say if you have what it takes to be a poet. Do you feel compelled to write poems even facing the possibility that no one will ever read your work? If so, you are and will always be a poet. Poetry is not a form of writing that will earn you much fortune and glory, so using recognition as your "poet worth" gauge is probably not the best idea.

However, recognition can be a powerful fuel for the poetic motor. So get involved with some other poets; read and submit to publications; and keep writing. The rest will take care of itself.

I'm going to be teaching!

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 14:04:06 GMT

Some of you have asked over the past few months if I do or will teach any online courses. Well, after speaking with Joe Stollenwerk at www.writersonlineworkshops.com, I will start teaching some poetry courses online.

My Fundamentals of Poetry Writing course will begin on 9/18 and it should kick butt.

To learn more, including a description of the course, just go to http://www.writersonlineworkshops.com/retail/courses.aspx?r=fundamentals-of-poetry-writing.

As you'll see on the page, you can sign up for my class directly. And I think they cap the classes at 15 students--so thought I'd give y'all first crack at signing up.

Poetic Terms: End-stops and Enjambment

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 17:58:23 GMT

The young woman says, "July is over,
but you don't have to go on and
on about it. There's always August."

And with these three lines, I'm prepared to lay out the difference between using an end-stop or enjambment at the ends of your lines. Want to really impress and flatter a fellow poet at the same time? All you need to do is talk up their wonderful use of enjambment.

Lines 1 and 3 in the above example use an end-stop, which just means that your line finishes its thought (often with the use of punctuation) before moving on to the next line.

Line 2 uses enjambment by running over into line 3. That's right, enjambment is when you run your idea from one line into another (or many others).

So, why use one over the other? Well, the way you use end-stops and enjambment can affect the speed readers move through your poem. End-stopping tends to slow down the pace, while enjambing picks it up. Personally, I like to mix it up some to achieve certain effects within my poems, especially if I want to emphasize certain ideas or images.

If you haven't tried using end-stops and enjambment before (or haven't thought about it since "the good old days" of school), then you might want to try playing around with these tools in your poems. If nothing else, you can now start complimenting other poets' end-stops and enjambments--and actually know what you're talking about.

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 013

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 12:27:47 GMT

For this week's poetry prompt, I'm also going to discuss an interesting poetic form called the cento. A cento is a poem composed of lines from other poets' poems. It's similar to the "cut-up technique" made famous by William S. Burroughs and others. The main difference is that a cento uses only lines from other poets, whereas the cut-up technique uses lines from any and every where.

I want you to go through your favorite poems and piece together your very own cento. The lines do not need to be popular or well known--but you should know where and who you're drawing from. The method that helped me was to find the lines and write them down first before trying to make something out of them. Later on, you can try this exercise on your own poems, especially ones where you might like a line or two but feel disappointed in the whole (I know I've written many that fit this description).

Anyway, here's my effort for the week:

"And we let the fish go"

A bestiary catalogs these hips are
big hips: My mother is a fish.

In Goya's greatest scenes we seem to see
the best minds of our generation destroyed by madness,
starving hysterical naked, because we could not stop
for Death, beside the white chickens.

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
"I am not a painter; I am a poet;
and I eat men like air." I have gone
out, a possessed witch, even as I speak,
for lack of love alone--sweet to tongue
and sound to eye--and that has made
all the difference. They tell me you

are wicked and I believe them, for I
have seen your painted women under the gas
lamps luring the farm boys. We wear the mask
that grins and lies, "The blind always come
as such a surprise." Let us go then,

you and I: We real cool. We rage,
rage against the dying of the light.

*****

(As you can see, many great lines were referenced and turned into a new whole, fighting for a new meaning. Btw, 21 poets--including the title--were referenced: I wonder who can figure out the most.)

Exclusive Interview With Poet Martha Silano

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 18:00:35 GMT

Some of the poets I've interviewed for this blog were sought out by me; some have been recommended by other poets; and some have come to me on their own. In the case of Martha Silano, author of Blue Positive (Steel Toe Books, 2006), it was kind of a combination of these events.

In my interview with Julianna Baggott, Martha Silano was mentioned as a new poet she took a shining to. I started to check out Martha's work, but then I got sidetracked on some other projects. Next thing I know, Martha is introducing herself and mentioning that Julianna sent her in the direction of my blog--and would I be interested in interviewing her? Anyway, one thing led to another, and wow! Silano is a great new (to me, at least) poet.

There are many excellent poems in Silano's Blue Positive collection, but the one that really grabs me is the following:

Harborview

By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me
--Sylvia Plath

By the roots of my hair, by the reinforced elastic
of my floral Bravado bra, by the fraying strands

of my blue-checked briefs, some god's gotten hold of me,
some god's squeezed hard the spit-up rag of my soul, rung me

like the little girl who rang our doorbell on Halloween, took
our M&Ms is your baby okay? Why did they take him away?

Some god's got me thinking my milk's poison, unfit
for a hungry child, some god's got me pacing,

set me flying like the black felt bats dangling
in the hall, some god so that now I can't trust my best friend's

healing hands, the Phad Thai she's spooning beside the rice (ditto
to the meds the doctors say will help me sleep) Poison poison!

as if the god who's got hold of me doesn't want me
well, doesn't want my rapid-fire brain to slow,

wants this ride for as long as it lasts, wants to take it
to its over-Niagara-in-a-barrel end, which is where

this god is taking me, one rung at a time, one ambulance,
one EMT strapping me in, throwing me off this earth,

cuz I've not only killed my son but a heap of others too.
Some god's got me by my shiny golden locks, by my milk-

leaking breasts, got me in this hospital, wisps like white scarves
circling my head, wisps the voices of men back to bed you whore!

Some god till I'm believing I've been shot, guts dribbling out,
till I'm sure I've ridden all over town in a spaceship, sure

I'm dead, a ghost, a smoldering corpse, though not before I'm holding up
a shaking wall, urging the others to help me (a plane about to land

on our heads), though soon enough thrown down by two night nurses,
strapped to a bed, though for weeks the flowers my in-laws sent

charred at the tips (having been to hell and back), clang of pots,
hissing shower, the two blue pills my roommate left in the sink,

all signals of doom, though some god got hold of me,
shook and shook me long and hard, she also brought me back.

And with that, let's get into the interview.

What are you currently up to?

I'm working on a book of poems--it's almost finished, I hope--tentatively titled The Little Office of the Immaculate Conception. It's about this mother who gets knocked up, considers fleeing, fights with her husband, almost gets a divorce, has the baby, gets seriously depressed, and continuously (alternately) screams at and revels in/adores her two children. Betcha can't wait to read it!

I've also recently begun a series of poems (I would like it to be a chapbook) about body parts. And I'm working on another full-length collection about space aliens, extra-terrestrials, Galileo, ants, space junk, the universe, and related subjects--but this one probably won't really get going till my youngest starts kindergarten, when I plan to apply to every writer's colony in the country.

I recently read in an interview that you had to suffer through postpartum psychosis to write your collection Blue Positive. Could you elaborate on that experience? For instance, I'm interested in how it affected your daily life and whether you were still able to write, etc., as you went through postpartum. Also, I'm wondering how it was initially detected.

Oh gosh, that's a big question. Thanks for being bold enough to ask it. I've encapsulated what happened during those first six months of my son's life in two essays; one appears in the April ’08 issue of Redbook, the other in Poets on Prozac: Mental Illness and the Creative Process, just out from Hopkins U. Press.

Let's just say my daily life was quite different. I don't remember much about the first week at all; I was actively psychotic--hallucinations, delusions, the whole kit and kaboodle. I mean, I thought I was in cahoots with the Unibomber. When the drugs put a stop to the active psychosis, I was left with paranoia, extreme insecurity, acute anxiety, agoraphobia, and severe depression. "Writing" consisted of scribbling down a few notes about the guy down the hallway who was out to get me. When I got home from the hospital I was still in pretty bad shape--afraid to venture down to the basement, take my son on a walk. I was also prone to gut-wrenching panic attacks. Worst of all, I'd forgotten how to laugh. I remember going to see the movie Best in Show, and not being able to figure out what was so funny (I saw it a year later and laughed my ass off).

As far as the detection issue, that was pretty much a comedy of errors. After my first panic attack (ahem, slip into psychosis), I was diagnosed with sleep deprivation and given a prescription for tranquilizers, which I never took because, of course, the doctors were trying to poison me. The next time I got hauled into Behavioral Health they finally began calling what I had postpartum depression (semi-true) and put me on antidepressants, the worst thing you can give to someone who's manic. Three cheers for modern medicine! The Paxil actually sped up the process from mania into full-blown psychosis, landing me in the ER that much faster.

More doctors and nurses are beginning to understand there's a connection between the postpartum period and bipolar disorder, but in the year 2000, at Harborview Medical Center, in the very progressive city of Seattle, I was treated like a "crazy person," not a new mom suffering from PPP. For instance, I got a wicked urinary tract infection because my hoo-ha was still bleeding and they didn't remind me to take my requisite daily sitz baths.

The collection Blue Positive seems to me to be a collection celebrating life--it covers topics such as sex, pregnancy, motherhood, and food. How did you go about assembling the poems that would go into this collection?

I hadn't thought of Blue Positive as a particularly celebratory book, but—psychosis be damned!—it's quite a mirthful romp, isn't it?

The oldest poem is "Salvaging Must Lead to Salvation"--an I-want-to-get-married piece I began in 1998. For months I was writing these pathetic (very ordinary) little square-shaped poems that were going nowhere, and then it was like the levee broke and this voice came out--not quite "me," more this potty-mouthed gal who both thoroughly adores and completely despises this man she's going to end up marrying. I knew this poem didn't fit with the manuscript I was sending out at the time (What the Truth Tastes Like), so I guess it's when I knew I had another book in me—always a relief.

Then I got hitched, knocked up, and wrote all the preggy poems ("Getting Kicked by a Fetus," "What they Don't Tell You About the Ninth Month," etc.). Then I thought the book was done (2000), and sent it out to a dozen or more places the week before I went into labor with my son. What a joke! When I "came to" after my 6-month trip through crazy-land, I realized, duh, I had actually only written a 1/4 of a book--okay, 1/2 at best. So I kept writing, and of course all the poems were now about being a mother--"While He Naps," "Explaining Current Events to a One-Year Old," "His Favorite Color is Green," etc. Urged by a friend, I sent a revised version off to the National Poetry Series; it was chosen as a finalist.

Once I knew I'd even slightly enticed a neutral reader (i.e., not my mom or sister), I kept adding, cutting, and shaping. It took two more years to (1) write the title poem; (2) figure out that I needed to begin the book with my own childhood, then move chronologically through adolescence, courtship, marriage, pregnancy, and the birth of our son; and (3) be awarded an 8-month writing residency in the wilds of southern Oregon’s Rogue River canyon, so I could get knocked up again and write the thirteen poems that close the book. And that's how it finally got finished.

Motherhood factors into a lot of your poems. How do you work in time to write around being a mother and teaching? Do you have a writing routine--or just write when you can?

Oh, goodness, I envy those people who can write whenever they want. But actually I was always poor with time management. I like rearranging junk drawers, pouring over old photos, gabbing, etc. So it's actually turned out that I write more now than ever. But okay, here's a little secret: self-imposed writing retreats. I've done three in the last year. The first two were paid for by a grant (thank you, Washington State Artist Trust), but the most recent one cost me less than $100--two nights in a friend of a friend's beachfront studio. It didn't have a stove or a bed (I slept on the floor), but hell if I cared.

Otherwise, I write when I can: on the kitchen floor while my 3 year old plays with her dinosaurs, at the dentist's office, in traffic (yes, in a moving car), at the beach, on airplanes and on fishing docks, during snack time, while they're sleeping; in between all the rest.

How do you decide where to submit? Do you have a particular process for deciding where to submit and when your poems are ready to go out?

Under most circumstances I don't send to a place unless I’ve read a back issue/perused their online offerings or am a subscriber.
I've gotta mostly completely love the poems, the fiction, the art work, the layout, the whole shebang, or no thanks.
I avoid submitting to mags where I don't have a prayer (I'm not talking long shots, I'm talking completely different aesthetic).
When a poem is getting close to feeling finished, I email it to a poet/editor friend or two, just to make sure I'm not about to make a total fool of myself. If I skip this step, and sometimes I do, it feels risky, sorta cocky--I mean, how the hell do I know? I've sent things out too early--who hasn't?--but mostly I try to sit on my hands as long as I can, even if it feels like a poem is finished. I can't always wait a year, but usually a month or two at the very minimum allows me to find all the stupid little mistakes, OR to realize the poem is actually a piece of sh*t.

I've enjoyed reading your Blue Positive blog where you deal in equal parts personal and poetic. What are your thoughts on blogging in relation to your writing? Would you recommend blogging to other poets?

I can't say I recommend blogging, though it IS a blast. It might be keeping me away from the real writing, but so far it hasn't interfered much. I like writing about magazines and writers I'm stoked about, asking questions, sharing personal stuff that's not quite poem-worthy, keeping my prose muscles toned. I really haven't thought about whether it's beneficial to my writing in any way; it's just stuff I would have told a friend or written in my journal, so why not put it out there? It reminds me a little of being a DJ at a tiny college radio station in Iowa. I would say these outlandish things, make little jokes, purposely mess up the PSAs--probably only a few cows were listening, but that was half the fun of it.

Could you name a couple poets you're currently enjoying? And why you're enjoying them?

The hard part is keeping it down to a couple. Here’s five:

Heidi Lynn Staples—wacky, wild, mind-blowing leaps;
Matthea Harvey—startling line breaks and imagery, lots of surprises;
Jenny Browne—I love how her poems are both grounded and surreal;
Sandra Beasley—oh man, has she ever changed how I see the world, but especially cherry tomatoes;
Lee Upton—her music is sump.tu.ous. Here’s a gal who knows how to edit down to the bone.

As mentioned earlier, you teach English at two community colleges. Do you feel teaching has helped or hindered your writing?

My students bring satchels and satchels of enthusiasm, excitement, and adrenaline into my life--our conversations wind me up and set me spinning. I love holding back on what I think and instead asking more questions. I love how they talk to each other, teach each other, teach me. Without them, would I still be writing? I grow old; they stay young. I grow set in my ways; they kick me in the pants. It's an incredible honor to teach, a calling, really. If I didn't love it, if it didn't feed my creativity, I wouldn't do it. So, the short answer: helped.

If you could impart only one piece of advice to other poets, what would it be?

Ignore all oracles.
Don’t be too cocky or too humble.
Figure out the poems you were given to write, and get to it.
When an established writer gives you the critique you begged for, listen carefully and do your best to keep mum.

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To find out more about Martha Silano, check out her website at http://www.marthasilano.com/.

The site includes poems from her collections Blue Positive and What the Truth Tastes Like (Nightshade Press, 1999), as well as ordering information.

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If you're a poet or publisher interested in setting up an interview (or just a poetry lover, who wants to make a recommendation), then check out my Call for Poets. It worked for Martha Silano, and it could work for you.

Poetic Terms: The Stanza

Thu, 24 Jul 2008 14:48:43 GMT

While this might be too basic for some of the blog readers, I thought it wouldn't hurt to share some poetic terms for poets who've not taken formal courses in poetry. Personally, I love knowing more about the various terms, and I've got such a bad memory that sometimes it's good for me to have a refresher or two on the basics.

The stanza in its most basic sense is each group of lines in a poem. For instance, in a sestina there are 7 stanzas with the first 6 stanzas containing 6 lines and the final stanza consisting of 3 lines.

Stanzas can come in several different lengths, from one to one million (or more) lines in length. In fact, some of the shorter stanzas have official names that can be applied to them.

1-line stanzas are monostich.

2-line stanzas are couplets.

3-line stanzas are tercets.

4-line stanzas are quatrains.

5-line stanzas are quintains (or cinquains).

6-line stanzas are sixains (or sestets).

7-line stanzas are septets.

8-line stanzas are octaves.

So, getting back to the sestina, we could be all smart and say it is composed of six sixains followed by a tercet.

Or we could just say a sestina is composed of a sadistic pattern of end words that leave many poets curled up in a fetal position chanting, "There's no place like home," while clicking their heels together with their eyes shut tight against the world.

New Poetic Form: The Roundabout

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 13:25:59 GMT

Our Poetic Asides inaugural Poet Laureate, Sara Diane Doyle, has been busy-busy-busy this summer working with teen writers. But not too busy to share with her fellow Poetic Asides crew a new poetic form she developed with one of her students, David Edwards. Since Sara knows the form best, I'll let her explain the form to you in her own words.

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A few months ago I began exploring various poetic forms. With each form I tried, I would post my attempt on a forum for teen writers, where I am a mentor. One of the teens, David Edwards, got interested in forms, especially the “created” forms. He asked if anyone could invent a form and I said “sure!” Then, he got the crazy idea that we should create a form together.

To start, we wanted to throw in every poetic element that we really liked. David came up with the meter and feet and I added in the repeating line. We came up with the rhyme scheme and length together. The result is a form we call the Roundabout. In this form, the rhyme scheme comes full circle while offering repetition of one line in each rhyme set.

The Roundabout is a four stanza poem, with each stanza consisting of 5 lines. The poem is written in iambic and the lines have 4 feet, 3 feet, 2 feet, 2 feet and 3 feet respectively. The rhyme scheme is abccb/bcddc/cdaad/dabba. Roundabouts can be on any subject.

Several of the writers on our forum have written Roundabouts and have had a blast." We would love for other poets to give it a try! Here are some examples to get you started.

Crash

by David Edwards

Around around the carousel

across the circles face

we cry we shout

we crash about

across the circles face

and ever always breakneck pace

by this unending route

and twists and turns

and breaks and burns

by this unending route

of ever always in and out

the yearling quickly learns

to run and yell

at ocean’s swell

the yearling quickly learns

to run and leap and then he earns

but he will never tell

there’s not a chase

that wins the race

but he will never tell.

When Spring Trips ‘Round

by Sara Diane Doyle

When wildflowers bloom once more

and raindrops touch the earth,

the faeries come

to start the hum

and raindrops touch the earth!

Come join the song, the dance the mirth!

Enjoy the juicy plum.

beneath the sun

'til day is done-

enjoy the juicy plum!

The clouds let out the beating drum-

rejoice with us as one.

Our joy we pour

for pain we bore-

rejoice with us as one.

Of gleeful hope, the snow knows none,

but speaks of faeries lore,

of magic birth,

the greatest worth

but speaks of faeries lore.