Deborah Ager's Blog, page 22

Day 1: John Poch on 5 Recent Poetry Books You Must Have

John Poch, editor of 32 Poems Magazine, starts off April's Poetry Month Celebration with his list of the five poetry books he thinks you need to run out and buy. Tune tomorrow—and the rest of this week—for more lists by poets you know and love.

1. The Last Predicta by Chad Davidson

I'd rather read a new poem by Chad Davidson than any poet of my generation. For word play, gigantic conceits, line by line surprise, and contemporary culture looked at with wisdom rather than condescension, you just can't beat it.

2. Every Riven Thing by Christian Wiman

One of the smartest poets we have, enamored of silence and able to make beautiful sounds with it. Some have blamed him for sounding like Hopkins, Donne, and Herbert. I praise him for that, but he's really doing his own thing, completely, writing some of the most daring poems of our generation.

3. Half Life by Meghan O'Rourke

Lines chiseled from stone, yet poems that make you feel deeply. I've read this book over and over, and I never change my mind about it.

4. Things Are Disappearing Here by Kate Northrop

One of the most subtly gorgeous books I've ever read.

5. Bucolics by Maurice Manning

So idiosyncratic you'd think no one could pull this off, but he does. I wish I'd written it.

BIO: John Poch's most recent book of poems is Dolls (Orchises Press 2009). He teaches at Texas Tech University.

M. E. Silverman: An Interview With Serena M. Agusto-Cox

M.E. Silverman is a bit camera shy, but we do have an interview and a sample poem. Perhaps we can sketch a picture of him in our minds that is suitable given his answers?!

1. How would you introduce yourself to a crowded room eager to hang on your every word? Are you just a poet, what else should people know about you?

I am a Dad first and often introduce myself as Vice-President of Isabel Inc. I actually once had someone inquire in these tough economic times about a job opening there, and if he wasn't so serious, I might have continued the joke.

2. Do you see spoken word, performance, or written poetry as more powerful or powerful in different ways and why? Also, do you believe that writing can be an equalizer to help humanity become more tolerant or collaborative? Why or why not?

I have never found spoken word to be enjoyable outside of the environment they are being performed in, usually a bar or coffee shop. When I was in Philadelphia, I went to a couple of these back in the 90s, but have not followed the movement since. As far as "power" goes, it depends on the meaning of such an abstract word. What is power to a garbage employee working 9 to 5 or to a white collar exec? I do not think that writing can equalize anything in today's age and while it had a powerful force at one time, even influencing politics, I think it has fallen into the folds of the Ivory Tower. Those in college, whether a student or teacher, are probably the most exposed to words, to language, and thus, poetry is unable to spread its wings beyond that.

3. Do you have any obsessions that you would like to share?

When i come across a good poem, I copy it and put it in this giant 5 volume binder. It is getting out of control.

4. Most writers will read inspirational/how-to manuals, take workshops, or belong to writing groups. Did you subscribe to any of these aids and if so which did you find most helpful? Please feel free to name any "writing" books you enjoyed most (i.e. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott).

I have taken several online workshops from 32 poems with Deborah Ager to Mid American Review with Craigo and I find them all helpful and inspirational. I tried the Dnzanc one on one critique but found it less than helpful. Kooser Poetry Home Repair Manual by far is one of the best how-to books, but also Triggering Town and Cleave's Contemporary American Poetry: Behind the Scenes. I could not put down either Kim Addonizio's how-to books nor Padgett's The Teachers and Writers Handbook of Poetic Forms.

Of course, there are many anthologies I also enjoyed just to get exposure to other writers, including Chang's Asian American Poetry, Collins Poetry 180, Yale Younger Poets Anthology, Feinstein's Jazz Poetry Anthology & The Second Set Vol 2, Rebel Angels: 25 Poets of New Formalism, A Formal Feeling Comes ed. by Finch, A Drifting Boat: Chinese Zen Poetry by Seaton, the KGB Bar Book of Poems, American Poetry Now (Pitt) and the Copper Canyon Anthology. Also, there are quite a few portable workshop books but by far the most enjoyable is Jack Myers Portable Poetry Workshop.

5. Poetry is often considered elitist or inaccessible by mainstream readers. Do poets have an obligation to dispel that myth and how do you think it could be accomplished?

I think one of the best ways to accomplish this goal is to introduce very modern sounding, very contemporary poems that resonate with students even in the freshmen comp. level. Clear meaning and beautiful language are possible in combination together. I have found poems that do not sound too "poety" to go over well and open their eyes to the possibilities of language and writers that are available. This can be anyone from Brooks to Levine to even lesser known writers like Amy Fleury. Li Young Lee and Neruda do wonders in a classroom setting as the "next step" in my experience.

6. When writing poetry, prose, essays, and other works do you listen to music, do you have a particular playlist for each genre you work in or does the playlist stay the same? What are the top 5 songs on that playlist? If you don't listen to music while writing, do you have any other routines or habits?

I find strong violin sax and trumpet to be the most inspiring instruments. Naima by Coltrane is a beautiful sweet song. Clifford Brown Portrait of Jenny with Strings. Any Miles Davis but I love the album Seven Steps to Heaven. Who could resist writing with music and a title like that? Nina Simone is a goddess of the vocal chords. Occasionally, I will go to Norah Jones but mostly it is Beethoven, Telemann, Vivaldi.

7. In terms of friendships, have your friendships changed since you began focusing on writing? Are there more writers among your friends or have your relationships remained the same?

I have lost track of many friends over the years. I am really bad about that like the beasts in Hitchhiker's Guide. If I cannot see you, it is out of sight, out of mind.

8. How do you stay fit and healthy as a writer?

I eat Hostess Cupcakes and chug soda! Oh wait, you are serious. I exercise and to keep the brain fit, I read and read. I find myself reading outside of my genre, going from Chandler to Beinoff's City of Thieves to Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game.

9. Do you have any favorite foods or foods that you find keep you inspired? What are the ways in which you pump yourself up to keep writing and overcome writer's block?

If someone knows this answer, point me to the way. I don't drink anymore so I can't say wine but a fine chilled soda in an expensive crystal cup with Peanut Butter M&M's or Peanut Butter Cups will be very engaging in front of the computer. You know, I think it is the peanut butter because a good PB&J sandwich is also a brain boost, for me!

10. Please describe your writing space and how it would differ from your ideal writing space.

I should mention how it has changed. I use to write as a stay at home Dad when Isabel was very young and still napping. The trick was to write and read carefully as she slept on me in the day time, so there I'd sit with her and a book, pen, and notepad. It was warm, loving, and inspiring all in one package. She no longer naps and I find myself writing in front of the computer, which has its problems. You cannot see the previous drafts, the changes, the poem shaping and growing. A change is very permanent and often there is no going back. I know, I know, save multiple drafts but who really does that successfully?

11. What current projects are you working on and would you like to share some details with the readers?

I would love to find someone capable of putting together an anthology of contemporary Jewish poets because there does not seem to be one and I bet that would do very well in the synagogue circuits and in the scholastic world. I am currently working on two projects: a collection of stories about a neighborhood filled with monsters: The Monsters Amongst Us. And I am completing my manuscript Toward the Ark We Imagine We Built, a collection of poems about longing and family centered around Judaism and of all things, farming.

Thanks to M.E. for answering my questions. Please check out his sample poem:

Bubbie's Kitchen Secrets

We cooked in her kitchen,

a small square room

with a large double sink.

The refrigerator zapped

its electric ache

and like an old noir film,

the lights flickered in response.

For herbs, she had me climb onto the counter

and open the one window,

to reach the basil, the thyme,

the sunflowers potted on the fire escape,

a hazardous garden

the whole building used.

Two or three steps were lined

with mason jars full of cucumbers,

for pickles crisp from sunlight.

On this particular Sabbath,

I did what I always did, helped her make

the kugel,

a pudding made of noodles and eggs

with a dash of her secret:

the caramel color from sugar burnt,

not too little, not too much.

We were finishing up

when we smelled the cigar smoke

and heard heavy boots

pounding down the fire escape.

Then glass breaking,

a curse, that curse!,

quick and sharp

in gun-shot German.

Bubbie screamed. Scared,

I ducked under the table.

She whispered one word

before feinting:

Nazis.

Her war from long ago. Startled,

the man stepped back,

slipped and fell

to the pavement,

dying in agony.

Later,  she told me

she thought she saw

the guard from the camp.

The guard who gave the orders.

She told me this

as we huddled on the linoleum.

No one discovered how it happened.

I should have told somebody

when I read the paper and learned

he was just a student,

a young boy, like me.

I never did.

Virginia Center for the Creative Arts

One of my favorite residencies to visit when I need and want to accomplish a good deal of work is the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts (VCCA). Located near Amherst, VA and Sweet Briar College in rural Virginia, this retreat provides fellows with a room, studio, and three meals per day. For those of you inclined to travel internationally, they offer a program in France.

This past Saturday, Alonzo Davis, among others, hosted a fellows reunion at the Brentwood Arts Center. The center is the artistic anchor in a burgeoning arts district in Maryland (right near Washington, DC). What a treat to have a fellows reunion so close to the 32 Poems HQ in Hyattsville, MD.

If you are an artist looking for an artistic retreat, I encourage you to look into the VCCA's programs. Their association with Sweet Briar College allows fellows to have access to the college facilities—pool, gym, basketball court, hiking trails—and the VCCA grounds have their own hiking trail for when you need to get moving. Their chef creates delicious (and healthy) meals that nurture the body and the imagination. I will be headed there this May and am looking forward to the time to focus solely on my writing.

Natalie Shapero: An Interview With Serena M. Agusto-Cox

Poet Natalie Shapero

1. How would you introduce yourself to a crowded room eager to hang on your every word? Are you just a poet, what else should people know about you?

I used to be more of a full-time poetry person than I am now – I wandered away somewhat to go to law school and spend summers at some great organizations that work on civil rights and poverty issues. I also make music occasionally, insofar as jumping and yelling may be, by some, considered singing.

2. Do you see spoken word, performance, or written poetry as more powerful or powerful in different ways and why? Also, do you believe that writing can be an equalizer to help humanity become more tolerant or collaborative? Why or why not?

I tend to think every single poem is a heavy hitter in its own way (btw, I am trying to use more sports metaphors these days). That said, in moments of witnessing harshness, I can feel completely pessimistic about anyone being able to understand the interior life of anyone else. Other times I am like, NO WAY MAN EMPATHY IS REAL. I guess I'm still on the fence (is that a sports metaphor? I'm not sure).

3. Do you have any obsessions that you would like to share?

When I lived in Columbus, Ohio, I was really taken with Open Line with Fred Andrle, this amazing call-in show on the local NPR affiliate, but Fred is retired now. This has allowed for the head-rearing of various other fascinations, including Wallace Shawn, trends in Wikipedia vandalism, and pocket Constitutions. I am also pretty interested in fashion – much to be obsessed with there, from eastern European street style as documented by college students in Krakow to the alarmist tabloid coverage of 's tomboy aesthetic.

4. Most writers will read inspirational/how-to manuals, take workshops, or belong to writing groups. Did you subscribe to any of these aids and if so which did you find most helpful? Please feel free to name any "writing" books you enjoyed most (i.e. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott).

I'm a workshop enthusiast, yeah. I would be a disaster if I hadn't had the benefit of terrific workshops in college and my MFA program. I think the more minds working on something, the better. Just now I have been reading a lot of the HTMLGIANT blog, which I like as something that's both for-real in love with writing and writers and also kind of over it.

5. Poetry is often considered elitist or inaccessible by mainstream readers. Do poets have an obligation to dispel that myth and how do you think it could be accomplished?

I am always unsure about the idea of poetry as elitist because it seems to be something a ton of people do in their at-home lives. In contrast to many other endeavors, it's so easy to read a poem, or to start making one – you don't need trendy technology or advanced degrees or movie star good looks. I always liked the Auden quote, "Writing poetry in the twentieth century A.D. is pretty much the same as it was in the twentieth century B.C." I think everyone can be a poet, and so many people frequently are, albeit quietly.

6. When writing poetry, prose, essays, and other works do you listen to music, do you have a particular playlist for each genre you work in or does the playlist stay the same? What are the top 5 songs on that playlist? If you don't listen to music while writing, do you have any other routines or habits?

Music, yes! Usually it is sad music I know well enough that I'm not distracted by the lyrics, because they're already sufficiently ingrained in me to sound more like low noise than words. Here are five good dorky songs:

Stockholm Syndrome (Yo La Tengo)
Acid Tongue (Jenny Lewis)
Cape Canaveral (Conor Oberst)
The Limit to Your Love (Feist)
Neighborhood #4 (Arcade Fire, yeah, this is the kettles one, oh man)

7. In terms of friendships, have your friendships changed since you began focusing on writing? Are there more writers among your friends or have your relationships remained the same?

I don't think art is possible without art-making and art-loving pals. I was lucky this year to go to AWP and can attest that the ones in my life are amazing – sunny (but not too sunny!) and stormy (but not too stormy!) and generous and generative and all of it.

8. How do you stay fit and healthy as a writer?

If you believe the scientific studies that say lots of coffee is good for your health, then my answer to this question is "lots of coffee." If you believe the studies that say lots of coffee is bad for you, then my answer to this question is, "look over there – a bird!" and then I jump out the window.

9. Do you have any favorite foods or foods that you find keep you inspired? What are the ways in which you pump yourself up to keep writing and overcome writer's block?

I basically always eat bread and a half avocado for breakfast. I live above a little corner store and go downstairs to buy to the avocado every other morning (I eat the leftover half on the morning in between). It's a good ritual. As for writer's block, I think that, since going to law school, I have not really had it, but maybe instead the opposite – lots I want to write, but not the time.

10. Please describe your writing space and how it would differ from your ideal writing space.

Writing space is sweet but spare. My partner and I share a small apartment that can't really accommodate the tide pools of books and papers that tend to surround a desk in its natural state. He has found smart ways of late to keep our place organized, but he's also substantially taller than I am, and his strategy is to stack everything on high shelves. It makes the writing space more livable, but I also can't really reach the shelves to pull down a particular book if I want it. I guess what I wish were different about my writing space is that I wish I were taller.

11. What current projects are you working on and would you like to share some details with the readers?

I have all these post-it notes up on the wall to remind me of poem ideas. I write a lot of them in the middle of the night, though, and then when I wake up the next day, I don't know what they mean anymore. If anyone reading this has an inkling about what I was planning when I wrote, for example, "buying olives behind the counter / I thought YOUR SHORTNESS was an honorific; he said I HARDLY NOTICED YOUR SHORTNESS and I said I'M RIGHT HERE / + that part about living forever in a company town," please contact me.

Thanks to Natalie for answering my questions. Please do check out a sample of her work below:

Implausible Travel Plans

He said, the water down there, it's so clear

you can't see jellyfish. That indicates

nothing, I said, and he said, I don't care

is the hardest line to deliver in all of acting,

as though he knew of an acting laboratory

where researchers developed hardness scales

and spattered across them devastating fragments.

show me the steep and thorny way to heaven.

I liked to rehearse my Ophelia during blackouts,

the traditional time to make the worst mistakes

and, later, soften the story. Nothing working

but the gas stove. God, I felt so bad

that time we used the crock instead of the kettle

and watched it smoke and shatter. I was the one.

I was the one who wanted stupid tea.

–First appeared in FIELD.

Andrew Kozma: An Interview With Serena M. Agusto-Cox

Poet Andrew Kozma

1. How would you introduce yourself to a crowded room eager to hang on your every word? Are you just a poet, what else should people know about you?

Where is this crowd and how do I convince them to follow me around from reading to reading?

I'm a poet because that's what I went to graduate school for and that what I have the most publications in, but I think of myself generally as a writer. I started writing seriously (i.e. regularly) in high school while in an English magnet school program. They had us write poems, stories, plays, essays, reviews, everything really that could be thrown under the term "writing" except for novels.

And that's continued. In addition to poems, I have had stories, essays, plays, and reviews published. Plays of mine have been performed by small companies. Most recently I've been trying to get an agent for a Young Adult novel.

2. Do you see spoken word, performance, or written poetry as more powerful or powerful in different ways and why?

I seem them as powerful in different ways. Spoken word and performance poetry have more to do with the skill of the writer as a performer than they do with the power of the poetry itself. A brilliant performer can bring you to tears with your tax return. Because of this, it's hard to tell from a performance whether the poetry stands on its own as poetry because the voice of the performer gets in the way. In addition, spoken word is crowd-oriented, meaning that your reaction is somewhat determined by the reactions of those around you. It's a communal experience.

Written poetry, on the other hand, is intensely private. Even if you like the same poets and love the same books as another person, chances are that you are receiving different things from the poems, and that those things are different than what the writer intended. Text is like e-mail in this: the skill of the writer narrows the field of what the reader interprets, but it is still an interpretation.

3. Do you have any obsessions that you would like to share?

General obsessions or writerly ones?

Generally, I'm obsessed with bad films (and generally interested in bad art of all kinds). I co-founded a bad movie club at my undergraduate school and have roped people into watching horrible films with me wherever I've moved. It's sad, I suppose, that I'm always more interested in watching a bad movie than a good one (or, at least, one that is seen as "good" by the general populace). But people always want to watch what's good. Where's the love for the bad?

In writing, I find myself obsessed with extreme situations. An early poem of mine was inspired by nuns who "cut off their noses and lips to avoid violation." More recently I've written about the Japanese Giant Hornet: a swarm of thirty can kill thirty thousand bees in a matter of hours.

More generally, I'm obsessed with form regardless of what genre I'm writing in. I try to treat everything I write as an experiment, pushing myself in a direction that I have yet to fully explore. In poetry, this means often writing in traditional forms, but also, more truthfully, that every poem I write inhabits a form even if it's not immediately recognizable.

4. Most writers will read inspirational/how-to manuals, take workshops, or belong to writing groups. Did you subscribe to any of these aids and if so which did you find most helpful? Please feel free to name any "writing" books you enjoyed most (i.e. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott).

I belong to a writing group now for working on novels, but this is relatively new to me. My default learning vehicle for writing has been the academic workshop from freshman year of high school to my last years of my Ph.D. It's true that, now, I would have to say that I find my writing group more helpful than workshops, but the reason for that is because all the people involved are experienced writers, have workshop experience, and like each other's work. The writing group is really only an evolution of the workshop for me. The first thing I learned about workshops is that you quickly have to determine whose comments are useful to you and to filter out the rest, essentially creating your own private writing group within the larger workshop context.

The writing books that I enjoyed most are Burning Down the House by Charles Baxter and Stephen King's On Writing. I don't really like reading straight how-to books on writing. Both of those books are more a symptom of the way I do like to approach learning about writing book-wise: criticism. King's Danse Macabre. Samuel R. Delany's The Jewel-Hinged Jaw. James Blish's Issues at Hand, and a Collections of essays by William Logan and Randall Jarrell.

5. Poetry is often considered elitist or inaccessible by mainstream readers. Do poets have an obligation to dispel that myth and how do you think it could be accomplished?

This idea always strikes me as a little odd, because as much as people may consider poetry elitist or inaccessible, poetry is also the one form of writing most people have written on their own and that most people believe they can write. It is probably the most democratic of genres. Journals are filled with poems of rage and pathos. Love poems are treasured not because of their art but because of their emotion. Poems written for elegies or for weddings have their verbal power reinforced by their context.

The reason, I think, that poetry continues to be seen as inaccessible is that the particular language and structure of poetry is purposefully acquired rather than naturally learned. What I mean is that once we learn to read, we are constantly bombarded with prose. Stories and novels make sense because they are, in general, little different than what we are reading every day. The language of poetry is generally at odds with normal speech, is unnatural in the way it plays with syntax and sound, and is much more accepting of language that stretches the limits of sense. The only real way to dispel the myth of poetry being inaccessible would be to include more exposure to poetry in schools and in popular culture.

6. When writing poetry, prose, essays, and other works do you listen to music, do you have a particular playlist for each genre you work in or does the playlist stay the same? What are the top 5 songs on that playlist? If you don't listen to music while writing, do you have any other routines or habits?

I'm often inspired by music, but I don't often listen to it while I'm writing. Or, to be more exact, I don't listen to specific music. Most of the time I'm writing in a public space (see below) and so the music I'm listening to is determined by those who own the space. When I'm looking to get inspired, bands that'll move me to write are The Decemberists, Death Cab for Cutie, and Blue Öyster Cult.

When I was in high school I wrote a play in a weekend only listening to a single song of Enya's on repeat. What was that song? Why Enya? How was I actually able to keep focused for that long? All these questions and more will fail to be answered.

7. In terms of friendships, have your friendships changed since you began focusing on writing? Are there more writers among your friends or have your relationships remained the same?

Sure, my friendships have changed because since I've been focusing on my writing I've been surrounded by writers. The very nature of graduate school means that most of the friends I've gained over the past ten years have been, in some way, related to writing.

But if the question you so slyly phrased actually means what I will now interpret it to mean, i.e. How have my friendships changed since I graduated from graduate school and tried to work on writing as full-time as possible? then here is my answer.

I think they have gotten worse. Or at least that's my fear. So much of my social life – whether I go out and have said social life – is dependent on whether I feel like I get enough writing done during the day. In fact, part of the reason that most of my friends are and continue to be writing related is that friends can often only find me at a coffee shop, working, and those friends are often writers who stay there and work with me. Conversation is there, but it's sidelined by the camaraderie of writing together.

8. How do you stay fit and healthy as a writer?

By riding my bike to my preferred writing space, and making sure that writing space is outside of my house (see below).

I used to play soccer pretty regularly – and would love to again – but writing and thinking about writing has eaten up all my time. Well, that and my job is weekend-oriented, the same days I'd be playing soccer if I wasn't earning a living instead.

9. Do you have any favorite foods or foods that you find keep you inspired? What are the ways in which you pump yourself up to keep writing and overcome writer's block?

Coffee. And I don't mean coffee in the sense that I need the caffeine to kickstart my heart or to keep me going – I drown my coffee in cream and sugar – it's more that I like to have something hot at hand while writing. Drinking it (slowly) gives me something to do, and the heat from what I'm drinking makes me feel active. I think it has something to do with the fact that a hot beverage is a sort of clock. It only stays hot for so long.

Similar to the countdown inherent in a cooling cup of coffee, I use time to overcome writer's block. When working, I'll say that I have to write for a certain amount of time – when working on my novel it was two hours a day – and for that time I actually have to be writing. Yes, in theory, I could be staring at a blank screen for those two hours. In practice, if you set me in front of a computer and I have no other way to distract myself, I'll begin stringing words together. Of course, whether those words will be coherent is anybody's guess.

10. Please describe your writing space and how it would differ from your ideal writing space.

My current writing space is Inversion Coffee. It's a coffee shop (as you might've already guessed) but it has a pretty high turnover of patrons and draws a lunch crowd during the week with food trucks in the parking lot.

I suppose you might wonder why those are desirable to me in a writing space. If you are so wondering, the answer is that I need to be distracted. If I'm not mildly distracted by other people, by things to see and noise to filter out, then I end up endlessly distracting myself. Although I've been able to do work at home in the past, it's far more difficult for me then getting writing done while in a busy, noisy environment.

Ideally, I'd be working at a café rather than a coffee shop. There are two reasons for this. One is that a place that focuses on food is likely to be busier than a coffee shop, and therefore'll give me more distractions for the eye and ear. The second reason is that restaurants are less likely to have wireless internet, thereby nipping another major distraction in the bud.

Lastly, my ideal writing space would have free coffee and food. Which means I'll probably have to own the place.

11. What current projects are you working on and would you like to share some details with the readers?

Currently, I'm doing the Write 1 Sub 1 challenge where those involved write a story a week and submit a story a week (luckily, it doesn't have to be the same story). Inspired by that, I started a similar thing with some poet friends, just writing a poem a week.

Outside of that I'm working on revising a novel I wrote a few years ago. It's hard going since I find it nearly impossible to read what I've written if I think there are issues with it, and working my way back through this novel is like walking hip deep in snow. The good thing is that I find I like what I've written pretty well after I've reread it. Strangely, that hasn't kept me from dreading what I still have yet to read and revise.

Thanks to Andrew for answering my questions. Please do check out a sample of his work below:

A Firm Belief in Unfettered Joy

Here is what I was going to tell you:

The Dalstroi orchestra played for them

as they approached over the ice

that had caught fast the ship

transporting the prisoners

through winter

to Magadan.

Here is what it was going to mean:

Even so, even here, even without knowledge.

There is joy in an attempt at joy by the Dalstroi

orchestra forced by the camp supervisors

to welcome with music those survivors

who saw the sun shining beneath the ice.

Here is the space between:

A siren carries itself across the city.

Against the pale grey sky, the dark branch.

The litter of dead petals on the church floor.

After the explosion, the absolute silence.

Snow becomes the icing on the earth.

Where the footprints stop, beauty lies untouched.

Matthew Thorburn: An Interview With Serena M. Agusto-Cox

Poet Matthew Thorburn

1. How would you introduce yourself to a crowded room eager to hang on your every word? Are you just a poet, what else should people know about you?

I've participated in enough poetry readings – on both sides of the microphone – to recognize what an act of generosity it is for anyone to come to a reading and listen to my work, especially in a city like New York where there are so many other things they could do instead. So when I get up in front of an audience to read, I always begin by saying thank you. (All those who work so hard to organize, publicize and host poetry readings deserve our endless thanks too.) Then I read an opening poem that I hope will pull the audience in: something quick and vivid, something that might make them laugh, or at least smile, and make their ears perk up.

This doesn't necessarily come up in readings, but people might be interested to know that, unlike most poets I know, I don't teach. I've always made my living as a writer of practical prose – ads, brochures, press releases, web copy – whether for a college's office of university relations, a public relations agency, or a car company. Currently, I work in the marketing department of a large international law firm, where I write or edit a lot of the firm's marketing materials and manage its in-house design team.

2. Do you see spoken word, performance, or written poetry as more powerful or powerful in different ways and why? Also, do you believe that writing can be an equalizer to help humanity become more tolerant or collaborative? Why or why not?

I think the most powerful poems are those that really work in both mediums – as words arranged on a page and as words spoken or read aloud. As a reader/listener, I want both! After reading someone's poems in a book or journal, I want to hear her or him read them. It almost always gives the poems an extra depth. I love to hear poems in the poet's own voice – to see where she puts the stress, where she pauses, and so forth.

I agree that writing can help people feel more equal or become more tolerant, but the kinds of writing I see doing that are speeches and sermons, or op-eds and letters to the editor, not poems. In my experience, poems work on a smaller scale: one curious person opening a book or journal to see what's inside.

3. Do you have any obsessions that you would like to share?

I do have a few. I'm fascinated by Vermeer's paintings, the way he paints the light. Just recently I've gone to see those in The Frick Collection, in New York, and the National Gallery of Art, in Washington, D.C. I'd love to make the rounds and see all of his paintings eventually. (It's probably do-able; there are only about 30.) I also love jazz, especially the recordings of Thelonious Monk, which I keep in more or less constant rotation on my iPod. And when it comes to fiction, I find myself doing more and more rereading of old favorites. I revisit Richard Ford's Frank Bascombe novels – The Sportswriter, Independence Day, and The Lay of the Land – every couple years. And I'll never get tired of Penelope Fitzgerald's nine perfect little novels – "little" in terms of their page counts, not their ambitions or accomplishments, which are tremendous. (Poets can learn a lot from the work of both of these fiction writers.)

4. Most writers will read inspirational/how-to manuals, take workshops, or belong to writing groups. Did you subscribe to any of these aids and if so which did you find most helpful? Please feel free to name any "writing" books you enjoyed most (i.e. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott).

I participated in workshops as an undergrad and later attended an MFA program. One of the biggest benefits of these experiences was developing a feeling of community – getting to know other poets at a similar point in their writing lives, people I could talk to about poetry, and share poems and books with. The actual work of writing is solitary, of course, but it helps to feel like you're not in it alone – even though you are, when it comes down to it.

I've also participated in the occasional class or workshop at the 92nd Street Y. A one-on-one poetry tutorial with Grace Schulman was especially helpful. She offered close critical readings and gave me very astute, specific advice on the poems I was writing then. A workshop at the Y on writing book reviews, taught by Ben Downing, was also very good, and helped me become a regular reviewer of poetry.

I've read my fair share of how-to books and collections of writing prompts and advice. But what I recommend is to read collections of essays by the poets whose work you love, to learn more about how they read and write poetry, and see what you can take away from that for your own work. I'd especially recommend Marianne Boruch's collection, In the Blue Pharmacy.

5. Poetry is often considered elitist or inaccessible by mainstream readers. Do poets have an obligation to dispel that myth and how do you think it could be accomplished?

I don't think anyone's obligated, per se. Personally I just try to write poems that are accessible – otherwise, who will read them? But the truth is that there are all kinds of poems out there, with varying degrees of clarity, accessibility, difficulty and – for lack of a better term – experimental qualities. One thing you could do, if you want to get more people excited about poetry, is to show them that range of possibilities, so each hypothetical poetry reader could find something that appeals to her or him. Who knows – it could be Ted Kooser, but it could also be Rae Armantrout. I think it's a mistake to underestimate readers or try to dumb things down in order to appeal to a mythical everyman or everywoman.

The thing is, a good poem is a work of art. Good poems should be challenging, to some extent – just like good paintings or plays or movies. This is true for any art form: if you the reader/viewer/audience member aren't interested in it enough to be willing to put in some effort, you're not going to get much out of it. A good poem should require, but also reward, multiple readings. It's a balancing act, an effort on the part of both writer and reader: I reach out to you and you reach out to me.

6. When writing poetry, prose, essays, and other works do you listen to music, do you have a particular playlist for each genre you work in or does the playlist stay the same? What are the top 5 songs on that playlist? If you don't listen to music while writing, do you have any other routines or habits?

I used to listen to a lot of instrumental music (mostly jazz, sometimes classical) when writing, but over the past couple of years I've come to find it too distracting. Now I go for quiet.

As far as routines, I like to have my desk cleared off so I have room to work. And I like to have a cup of tea (or a glass of iced tea) within reach. Basically, my routine, such as it is, is about keeping it simple and focusing in on the writing at hand.

7. In terms of friendships, have your friendships changed since you began focusing on writing? Are there more writers among your friends or have your relationships remained the same?

I find that the new friendships I make tend to be with other writers. And I seem to meet them at places like the Sewanee Writers' Conference or AWP, meaning that typically we all live somewhere else – so more and more of my friends are long-distance friends.

8. How do you stay fit and healthy as a writer?

For my writerly health, I try to read as much as I can, both poetry and prose, including things that may seem like they wouldn't inspire poems, but sometimes do, like The Economist. (I also read all these things just because I love to read.) Also I try to go to poetry readings whenever I can. Reading or hearing other people's beautiful or haunting or heartbreaking poems is inspiring and reminds me of the wide range of what's possible, beyond whatever little corner of poetry I'm working in at the moment. Of course, bad readings can be helpful too: then my mind wanders and I may find myself thinking of some phrase or image that sparks my next poem!

9. Do you have any favorite foods or foods that you find keep you inspired? What are the ways in which you pump yourself up to keep writing and overcome writer's block?

My challenge isn't writer's block. It's more often finding the time to write – being able to set aside a block of time in which to shut out the everyday busy-ness of life and just think about poems. As I mentioned above, I'm a big tea drinker, but beyond that I don't have any special writing foods – though I would never turn down a homemade chocolate chip cookie.

10. Please describe your writing space and how it would differ from your ideal writing space.

I write in a second-bedroom-turned-office painted "haystack yellow" and filled with books, with lots of light and a nice view of the Bronx. My desk is actually a kitchen table, one of the first pieces of furniture I bought when I moved to New York, which has been my desk, or sometimes my kitchen table, in a variety of apartments over the past 10-plus years. This is where my poems get going, though once I have a solid draft on paper I usually carry it around in my pocket so I can work on it on the subway or during my lunch hour.

This is actually very close to the writing room of my dreams, which for some reason I have always imagined being a warm yellow color. My ideal writing room would just be larger, and I'd have two desks – one for poems, one for all the admin stuff, and both with lots of drawers.

11. What current projects are you working on and would you like to share some details with the readers?

I recently finished – I think it's finished – a manuscript called This Time Tomorrow, a collection of poems set in China, Iceland and Japan. So now I'm working on some new poems, feeling kind of in between projects. I'm not sure how these new poems might eventually fit together, though I like that not-knowing and plan to stay in that gray area as long as I can, then see what I've got.

On the prose front, I recently finished a longer piece on Chinese poetry – partly a personal essay, partly a review of David Hinton's wonderful anthology Classical Chinese Poetry – which will appear in the first issue of a new magazine called Rowboat: Poetry in Translation. And I regularly write book reviews for Pleiades, so I'm waiting to see what's available to review for the next issue. I've been reading new books by Clay Matthews, Kimiko Hahn and Collier Nogues, so I might write about one of them. With prose, I do best when someone asks me to write about something – that's how the Rowboat essay came to be – so I'm always open to "assignments" from editors.

Thanks to Matthew for answering my questions. Please do check out a sample of his work below:

Just Like That

God, I never felt lonelier

than when the shinkansen would pull in

and I heard that electronic chime—

the one to tell us passengers

here comes the next stop announcement

in Japanese. It almost sounded like

someone's phone, because no one's phone

sounds like a phone anymore,

or a ringtone version of a Milt Jackson line,

a vibraphone riff from somewhere

in the middle of one of Milt's ten thousand runs

through "Django" or "Bags' Groove"

or "Two Bass Hit." I missed hearing him

twice back in Michigan, years ago

at the Serengeti Ballroom and the Bird

of Paradise, and now missed him all over again—

missed my cds and headphones, the live

and studio versions, the alternate

takes and outtakes, but especially his solos

that strayed beyond what I'd given up

precious brain cells to store away

so I could replay at will. My dream job,

back when Milt was still alive, would have been

to be John Lewis in his tuxedo at the piano.

To play like that, of course. To play at all.

But also to be so close I could listen

to Milt every night, every night—

those ten thousand sweet transactions

between the mallets and the vibes.

This string of four or five notes, not quite

a melody, not close to a song, might've been

a little something Milt threw in for flavor

or to egg John on, something to go back to

throughout his solo, like an inside joke

or an old lover's name you can never

really let go of, just the way I keep hearing it

now, lonelier each time, as we slide

into Shinjuku, Shiojiri, Nara, Shin-Osaka.

Originally published in Brilliant Corners

Musical Saturday

Roger Lathbury: A Tribute by John Poch

Blog Editor's Note: At the AWP conference, I had the pleasure of attending the tribute to Roger Lathbury–one of the most humble people in the literary arts. After I heard 32 Poems John Poch share his tribute, I asked if he would be willing to share it here with you. Why not let more people hear about what Roger has done for poets and poetry.

John Poch's tribute begins below:

Roger Lathbury began publishing books a long time ago. When he offered to publish my book seven years ago, I was ecstatic. I knew the quiet, but profound reputation that surrounded Orchises (and Roger). I also knew that he was a book lover and a word-lover of the first degree.

Why does he do this almost thankless job? In his words: "1983. Reagan was President, I was rail-thin, and the Cold War was still playing. No person had a computer because none were to be had. People read things called books. I thought, 'America could use another publisher, and I want to get rich from poetry.'"

Even though he hasn't gotten rich from poetry, Roger Lathbury continues to do what we, in this room, know to be an essential and necessary thing: to publish poetry. He is a wild man of literature, and to prove it, I'll read an excerpt of a correspondence he sent me some years back: "Thanksgiving was all right: an afternoon of Warhol videos, some Chinese heroin, vodka soaked chestnuts…and then the President and Tipper Gore dropped by…The evening ended by their swinging our three cats at each other." I love Roger Lathbury. Here's a poem dedicated to him, a sort of mask of love meant to ward off any evil in the coming days.

FEBRUARY FLU

Month of the least death poetry,

I pity you: a bone of a day

once every four years tossed your way.

You bury it.

A fever coming on, a swoon

and syrup filling up a spoon.

There's time for only one full moon.

You carry it.

The heart of you is candy hearts,

symmetrical, sans blood. Cruel arts,

Pandora's chocolate box with chart:

you ferry it,

seven by four, across the air

in snowshoes, open it to share

the blizzard of love's polar bear.

I marry it.

Photo Friday: Crazy Art Car

Joseph Milford: An Interview With Serena M. Agusto-Cox

Poet Joseph Milford

1.  How would you introduce yourself to a crowded room eager to hang on your every word?  Are you just a poet, what else should people know about you?

I am involved in nearly every part of the writing machine—I edit a journal, I host a radio show where I interview poets and provide a reading venue, I write and try to publish poems, and I also teach writing from basic composition to literature to creative writing on the college level here in Georgia. I know that's a mouthful—I'd probably just start reading some poems after a very Johnny Cash, "Hello. I am Joe Milford."

2. Do you see spoken word, performance, or written poetry as more powerful or powerful in different ways and why? Also, do you believe that writing can be an equalizer to help humanity become more tolerant or collaborative? Why or why not?

Obviously, when we hear the poems or see them "performed", they become altered, and many times more powerful, vehicles. To see the shape of the poet's mouth, the body posture, the diaphragm expand, the throat constrict, etc.—this is an incredible organic experience all leading to the convocation of voice. It's a great sharing. I do think that in these moments, which at their greatest extreme could border on shamanistic, we may find ways to temper our human nature, to tune it into a more harmonious instrument, maybe. Although, I do hear my inner skeptic creeping in, so I will stop here.

3.  Do you have any obsessions that you would like to share?

Paracelsus. The carbon nanotube. Multi-dimensional theory and Max Tegmar. Indie rock. TWANG (also known as "beer salt). Frank Stanford. The I Ching. Allegorical Alchemy. Physical Geology. Joseph Cornell.

4.  Most writers will read inspirational/how-to manuals, take workshops, or belong to writing groups. Did you subscribe to any of these aids and if so which did you find most helpful? Please feel free to name any "writing" books you enjoyed most (i.e. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott).

After my workshop experience at Iowa, I was starved for this type of thing over the years. Now, I am in a great position because of my radio show and the unique community it provides me—I get to ask established and accomplished poets every week about their formal constructions, writing habits, theories, etc. I actually consider doing the show my second "unofficial" MFA.

5.  Poetry is often considered elitist or inaccessible by mainstream readers.  Do poets have an obligation to dispel that myth and how do you think it could be accomplished?

I doubt that any dispel campaign could work on a culture, as a whole, who is more worried about the Kardashians' next business venture than they ever will be about the development of the postmodern prose-poem. Poets have an obligation to keep writing better and better poems. I don't think I am being elitist here—just practical. I think that the proliferation of MFA and Creative Writing programs all over the country is a testament to how many people are drawn to the craft; however, I know many are very skeptical about this MFA explosion. There's that word again—skeptical.

Milford's Poetry Collection

6.  When writing poetry, prose, essays, and other works do you listen to music, do you have a particular playlist for each genre you work in or does the playlist stay the same?  What are the top 5 songs on that playlist?  If you don't listen to music while writing, do you have any other routines or habits?

I listen to music a great deal when I am writing—I have various playlists which I will put on random—it would be hard to pick the top 5 songs because I don't approach it that systematically in my thought process. I don't have any particular ritual—with full-time teaching and three kids, I am just glad to have time to write at all!

7.  In terms of friendships, have your friendships changed since you began focusing on writing? Are there more writers among your friends or have your relationships remained the same?

My relationships have not drastically changed. However, I will say this, writing has forced me to grow as a person, and I think I have become better at my relationships because of that.

8.  How do you stay fit and healthy as a writer?

I wish I could decline this question! In any case, I don't do much at all. I need to get fit—that's for sure—I want to be around to watch my daughters grow into women—I have noticed that running from my responsibilities is not callisthenic.

9.  Do you have any favorite foods or foods that you find keep you inspired?  What are the ways in which you pump yourself up to keep writing and overcome writer's block?

In terms of favorite foods, which I don't correlate with writer's block, I love, and I know this is boring, hot wings. I could eat hot wings every day. In any case, if I were to go out and really indulge, I would camp out in a high end Thai food place and eat until they had me removed by police escort or stretcher.

10.  Please describe your writing space and how it would differ from your ideal writing space.

My space is pretty hectic these days with the kids. Chenelle and I really need to invest in a two-story house with a study space at the far end. I am doing guerrilla warfare writing right now in fits and starts between home, conferences, jobs, poetry shows, grading papers, and errands. I have an amazing library space, though, but my work area has gravitated towards the living area. My ideal writing space would be the desert, but I think at home it would be a room all to myself—our current house is not conducive, in its layout, to this just yet.

11.  What current projects are you working on and would you like to share some details with the readers?

I am currently shopping around a collection of poems I am calling DRUNKEN LOCUST, which I think is my best work to date. Of course, Chenelle and I are publishing SCYTHE, our literary journal, three times a year and doing The Joe Milford Poetry Show once a week. I am working on a very long poem which I doubt no one will ever be nuts enough to publish—it is currently titled BLIZZASTERISK. I think that sums it up for now—and thanks for this opportunity to talk about my interests and my love of poetry. I'm super happy to be in your journal.

Check out one of his sample poems:

From The Blizzasterisk

i wanted the specific procedure to bleed the TV sitcom families out of me.

vendettas spill over verandas and fertilize the gardens.

things were more insidious than asbestos lingering in our catacombs.

the entire population was just a few French fries short of a Happy Meal.

the ghosts of books read find slippage under the screen door into the grass to fume.

the stagecraft was amazing as the postcards shot through the crowd maiming all of us.

a mystery creature comes to you with a set of keys. you ask which door. it gnashes its teeth.

there is no power-source for the great apparatus. we still hung from the giant killswitch.

*

one can never have enough LEGOS during a mid-life crisis this is the cure to Alzheimer's.

they kept saying my future was held in my hands' palms. i sliced that future up with farmwork.

i can smell the musk, the scat, the sulphur, the burnt metals and plastics of a poem passing by.

like that pumpkin on the counter about to become a gourd to be hollowed out for a birdnest.

if you ever see a kid standing in golden wheat or goldenrod–rescue him. America kills.

i am made of tusks covered in leather. i move like a golem through religions. dream me.

some pop-songs are so covered in suntan lotion that i remember my sharkbites. ah, spring break.

on a white piece of construction paper, my stepdaughter killed my ninjas. it hurt nanoseconds.

*

if you paint a garden and do not like the branch then finish the painting and grab a ladder & saw.

a morphic field altered by language is a word or series of words you must own as a badge.

one must always attain a maximum intensity with a minimum of means said Miro the bullfighter.

the red fox implanted with her RFID chip runs constantly around our house stealing identities.

how does one separate the dust from anything he or she has done how does one leave earth?

amoebic vehicles harvest skeletal and biological growths amongst a sea of germinations.

without dirt there would be no clouds. without hammocks there would be no drunks. kick dust.

as a kid we had honeysuckle, crab-apples, grounded pecans, muscadines, sour-grass—plenty.

*

the ash falling was the closest thing to snowfall this hellpocket was ever going to be blessed with.

there are no inhospitable islands to vanquish sinners on–they become convenience store cashiers.

as we spread lime for next year's tomatoes the world writhed in endless top ten lists. cuckolds.

crawdads circle like an underwater zodiac as i unhook the catfish from my chickenwire hook.

Ascletario was eaten by dogs when he should have been burned. the stars, the stars, the stars.

if i had been named Cadillac Williams and not Joe Milford i wonder what could have happened.

sea urchins thrive about the planet like the halitosis of your hangover and dust of bad checks.

Algol mer. 6:25 ev. Moon Leo. 35 degrees N. Lat 75 degrees. Long. Sun sets at 5:28. days too short.