Rob Mclennan's Blog, page 93

Spotlight series #84 : Emmalea Russo

The eighty-fourth in my monthly "spotlight" series, each featuring a different poet with a short statement and a new poem or two, is now online, featuring New York-based poet Emmalea Russo.

The first eleven in the series were attached to the Drunken Boat blog, and the series has so far featured poets including Seattle, Washington poet Sarah Mangold, Colborne, Ontario poet Gil McElroy, Vancouver poet Renée Sarojini Saklikar, Ottawa poet Jason Christie, Montreal poet and performer Kaie Kellough, Ottawa poet Amanda Earl, American poet Elizabeth Robinson, American poet Jennifer Kronovet, Ottawa poet Michael Dennis, Vancouver poet Sonnet L’Abbé, Montreal writer Sarah Burgoyne, Fredericton poet Joe Blades, American poet Genève Chao, Northampton MA poet Brittany Billmeyer-Finn, Oji-Cree, Two-Spirit/Indigiqueer from Peguis First Nation (Treaty 1 territory) poet, critic and editor Joshua Whitehead, American expat/Barcelona poet, editor and publisher Edward Smallfield, Kentucky poet Amelia Martens, Ottawa poet Pearl Pirie, Burlington, Ontario poet Sacha Archer, Washington DC poet Buck Downs, Toronto poet Shannon Bramer, Vancouver poet and editor Shazia Hafiz Ramji, Vancouver poet Geoffrey Nilson, Oakland, California poets and editors Rusty Morrison and Jamie Townsend, Ottawa poet and editor Manahil Bandukwala, Toronto poet and editor Dani Spinosa, Kingston writer and editor Trish Salah, Calgary poet, editor and publisher Kyle Flemmer, Vancouver poet Adrienne Gruber, California poet and editor Susanne Dyckman, Brooklyn poet-filmmaker Stephanie Gray, Vernon, BC poet Kerry Gilbert, South Carolina poet and translator Lindsay Turner, Vancouver poet and editor Adèle Barclay, Thorold, Ontario poet Franco Cortese, Ottawa poet Conyer Clayton, Lawrence, Kansas poet Megan Kaminski, Ottawa poet and fiction writer Frances Boyle, Ithica, NY poet, editor and publisher Marty Cain, New York City poet Amanda Deutch, Iranian-born and Toronto-based writer/translator Khashayar Mohammadi, Mendocino County writer, librarian, and a visual artist Melissa Eleftherion, Ottawa poet and editor Sarah MacDonell, Montreal poet Simina Banu, Canadian-born UK-based artist, writer, and practice-led researcher J. R. Carpenter, Toronto poet MLA Chernoff, Boise, Idaho poet and critic Martin Corless-Smith, Canadian poet and fiction writer Erin Emily Ann Vance, Toronto poet, editor and publisher Kate Siklosi, Fredericton poet Matthew Gwathmey, Canadian poet Peter Jaeger, Birmingham, Alabama poet and editor Alina Stefanescu, Waterloo, Ontario poet Chris Banks, Chicago poet and editor Carrie Olivia Adams, Vancouver poet and editor Danielle Lafrance, Toronto-based poet and literary critic Dale Martin Smith, American poet, scholar and book-maker Genevieve Kaplan, Toronto-based poet, editor and critic ryan fitzpatrick, American poet and editor Carleen Tibbetts, British Columbia poet nathan dueck, Tiohtiá:ke-based sick slick, poet/critic em/ilie kneifel, writer, translator and lecturer Mark Tardi, New Mexico poet Kōan Anne Brink, Winnipeg poet, editor and critic Melanie Dennis Unrau, Vancouver poet, editor and critic Stephen Collis, poet and social justice coach Aja Couchois Duncan, Colorado poet Sara Renee Marshall, Toronto writer Bahar Orang, Ottawa writer Matthew Firth, Victoria poet Saba Pakdel, Winnipeg poet Julian Day, Ottawa poet, writer and performer nina jane drystek, Comox BC poet Jamie Sharpe, Canadian visual artist and poet Laura Kerr, Quebec City-area poet and translator Simon Brown, Ottawa poet Jennifer Baker, Rwandese Canadian Brooklyn-based writer Victoria Mbabazi, Nova Scotia-based poet and facilitator Nanci Lee, Irish-American poet Nathanael O'Reilly, Canadian poet Tom Prime and Regina-based poet and critic Jérôme Melançon.
 
The whole series can be found online here.

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Kevin Sampsell

Kevin Sampsell is the authorof a memoir ( A Common Pornography ), a novel ( This Is Between Us ),and a collection of collages and poems ( I Made an Accident ). He lives inPortland, Oregon and runs the influential small press, Future Tense Books. An award-winning bookseller,he has worked at Powell's City of Books since 1997. His collages have appearedon album covers, book covers, and in many publications like KolajMagazine, The Rumpus, The Weird Show, Chicago Quarterly Review, LittleEngines, and Black Candies. His writing has appearedin Paper Darts, Southwest Review, Salon, Poetry Northwest, McSweeney's,Tin House, and elsewhere. He is the co-curator of Sharp Hands Gallery, a website featuringinternational collage artists.

1 - How did your first book change your life? Howdoes your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feeldifferent?

Technically, my first book (that wasn't a chapbook)was a self-published collection of stories, poems, and word collagescalled How to Lose Your Mind With the Lights On (Future TenseBooks, 1994). It's pretty wild to think about how long ago that came out. Ithink it changed my life because it was my first experience doing everythingall on my own. I probably could have used an outside editor, but if Ilooked at that book now, I'm sure I'd still appreciate a lot of its goofyweirdness. My most recent book, I Made an Accident, is a collectionof collages and poems. In some ways it feels similar to that first book becauseit's a hodge-podge of things meant to surprise, delight, and even confoundyou. 

And how does it feel different? The collages are alot better this time around.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposedto, say, fiction or non-fiction?

I started in high school. My best friend and Iwould write weird little poems, but we didn't even call it poetry. We calledthem pieces. We were basically just trying to crack each other up,which I think was the early mission of the surrealists too, right? Iwanted to write poems that were more Monty Python than Robert Frost.

3 - How long does it take to start any particularwriting project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slowprocess? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or doesyour work come out of copious notes?

Over the years, it's been all over the place. Ithink I was more focused and compulsive for the first ten years or so of mywriting life. I'd write whole stories pretty quickly, and sometimes severalpoems a day. I'm much slower now and I edit myself a lot more. But I knowthat writing, and especially publishing, is a slow game. It doesn't bother meto go slow now. But I'm always working on something, and a lot of times copiousnote-taking is involved.

4 - Where does a poem or work of prose usuallybegin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into alarger project, or are you working on a "book" from the verybeginning?

Two of my books, the novel, This Is BetweenUs, and my memoir, A Common Pornography, were written in anon-linear fashion. I'd write chapters or scenes and then later spread them allout on the floor and figure out what order they needed to go. I finished anovel recently though that I wrote in a more traditional fashion, from thebeginning to the end. And I challenged myself to write longer chapters for thisbook too. Off and on, it took about eight years. Who knows if it will ever getpublished.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to yourcreative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

I do enjoy doing readings and I actually host abouta hundred or more readings every year at my job (Powell's Books in Portland,Oregon). I think I'm a good reader and I'm good in front of an audience, sosometimes it helps sell a few more books when I can deliver an entertainingreading. I notice that at my job too–a great reading sells a lot more booksthan a mediocre one.

6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behindyour writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work?

One of the main things I think about when writingis how people interact with each other and how relationships work. I don'tthink I could convincingly write something very engaging about nature orpolitics. I'm captivated by people in the world and all the strange things thatcan happen to them. I especially love writing about ordinary people who findthemselves in unexpected situations they probably don't want tobe in. More recently, I do find myself fixating on death, loss, and griefas central themes.

7 – What do you see the current role of the writerbeing in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role ofthe writer should be?

There are all kinds of writers and they all havedifferent intentions or missions. I don't really think about what"role" they're trying to fill and I don't thinkthey "should be" attempting to define the larger culture. Ithink questions like that feel too pointed and put too much pressure on writersto do something that others will see as "Important" (with a capitalI). Writing is an art form that can do anything and be anything, and itshouldn't always concern itself with influence. 

8 - Do you find the process of working with anoutside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

I love it for the most part. I want to know that mywriting is making sense to another human. Most of the time, if I get a story oressay published somewhere, there is very little input from an editor. But thetimes when I've gotten notes from editors, it's been really helpful andeye-opening. 

As an editor myself, I love it when I can help awriter make their work better, whether it be through small edits, suggestions,or playful challenges. With Future Tense, I work alongside my co-editor, EmmaAlden, and it's appreciable to have her input and notes. We usually workthrough a shared Google doc and seeing how our thoughts help shape the bookwe're working on, makes it really enjoyable. 

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard(not necessarily given to you directly)?

A publisher friend told me a long time ago that Ishould be writing off things for my tax returns each year. I found a good taxlady who helped me figure out what I can and cannot do, and frankly, it waslife-changing.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move betweengenres (fiction to poetry to memoir to collage)? What do you see as the appeal?

I think it's been a natural progression. I mean, Idon't intentionally say, I have to do this genre now. I'vealways liked to make different things depending on whatever I might feel mostinterested in. For a while, it was personal essays, and then it was flashfiction, and eventually it was visual art. I even had a haiku phase! And Iadmire other people who can express themselves in various forms aswell–musicians who can write novels, poets who can write memoirs, actorswho can paint. Having a range of interests and talents has helped me not getstagnant. It gives me a sense of creative freedom, and also permission to experiment.  

11 - What kind of writing routine do you tend tokeep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?

Ugh. I have such a bad writing routine most of thetime. But the important thing is that I stick to it and I do have stretcheswhen I can be focused and GSD. That stands for "Get Shit Done" and atthe end of the day, that's what gives me satisfaction, whether it's writing,editing, collaging, stuff at work, etc. The name of the game is GSD.

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do youturn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?

Reading is the main kickstarter. It wakes up mybrain and gives me ideas, especially poetry or a good disjointed lyricessay or something like that. Sometimes a good walk can do the trick too.Late night collaging can also inspire.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Sometimes, when my cat, Susan, yawns, I lean in tosmell her cat breath, which I find so cute and comforting. I love herthat much. 

The smell of baking brownies is probably a closesecond.

14 - David W. McFadden once said that books comefrom books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whethernature, music, science or visual art?

Art for sure. Collages especially. I amobsessed with collage art and have made a whole new world of friends inthat world over the past few years. You could look at some collage art andprobably transcribe it into poems. And yes, I've always loved music. And moviestoo! Good, slow movies about people. I don't really like action or superheromovies. 

15 - What other writers or writings are importantfor your work, or simply your life outside of your work?

Early favorites like Richard Brautigan, Diane Williams, Garielle Lutz, Gordon Lish, Larry Brown, and Mark Leyner were key tomy enthusiasm for writing and reading. There were also a lot of British musicwriters I enjoyed a great deal, before I was even a serious reader inmy twenties. A lot of friends of mine are writers I am constantly inspiredby as well: Kimberly King Parsons, Miriam Toews, Zachary Schomburg, Caren Beilin, Shane Kowalski. Plus the brilliant graphic novelist Daniel Clowes. 

16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yetdone?

I'd love to have a book reviewed in EntertainmentWeekly or record an album of Prince covers.

17 - If you could pick any other occupation toattempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would haveended up doing had you not been a writer?

I didn't go to college, so I always imagined myselfworking at a factory or something. I think being a mailman would be kind ofcool. Or a third string quarterback in the NFL, so I could make a lot of moneyand probably never have to play in a real game. Working at a bookstoreisn't bad though.

18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing somethingelse?

I wasn't smart enough to go to college or braveenough to join the military. I wanted to be a radio DJ and I was for a fewyears before moving to Portland (in 1992). Working in the world of books waskind of an accident. I just ended up here and held on to it because it wasrewarding in a nurturing and creative way. Not sure if that answered yourquestion very well. What makes me write is the constant urge to create and makethings.

19 - What was the last great book you read? Whatwas the last great film?

I really loved Someone Told Me byJay Ponteri. It was published by a Portland small press so it might be hard tofind, but it's an outstanding book of thoughtfully probing and beautiful lyricessays. My favorite film of last year was Marcel the Shell With Shoes On. It made me weep.

20 - What are you currently working on?

I'm working on a couple of Future Tense projectsand a new group show at my virtual collage gallery, Sharp Hands Gallery. As faras writing, I'm working on a couple of essays, or maybe they're more like longconceptual poems. One is about things in Portland turning into other things andanother one is about things I don't remember–like the opposite of JoeBrainard's I Remember.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Kate Siklosi, SELVAGE

 

my nagypapawas an immigrant and immigrant children without a mother are dangerous. they hadsettled in a small oil town and he started to build a small house with his ownhands. all i know of that night is that it was dark and there was screaming. i’mdrinking tea when my aunt recalls looking back on her father falling to hisknees. she was old enough then to know that the axis of their lives and thoseto come had shifted. an inverted arch crouching in concavity. each child acoordinate clinging to a dead line. one took his life one destroyed others. therest have done their best to keep grounded. the fact of the matter is they allgrew up against a backdrop of negative space. each a stellar burst a collapsedstar in a hellbent universe. notwithstanding, here. i. (“reasonable grounds”)

Toronto poet, editor and publisher Kate Siklosi’s second full-length collection,following the stunning visuals of leavings (Malmö, Sweden: TimglasetEditions, 2021) [see my review of such here], is SELVAGE (Toronto ON:Invisible Publishing, 2023). Set in four sections of stitch and carve, Siklosiwrites of new motherhood against intergenerational trauma, leaves andimmigration, edges and a blurred centre. Whereas leavings focused onimages of physical objects set with text, SELVAGE focuses instead on thetext itself, while still offering an extension of the visuals and visualelements presented in that full-length debut. She writes of stitch and vein, ablend of images (including full colour), offering text on seeds and leaves, andweaving in elements of language from the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedomsthrough examining a family history of devastating losses and their ripplingeffects. “leafing through the charter,” she writes, as part of the opening sequence-section,“i am a loss. when things shall be deemed it can both protect and threaten atonce.” As the press release offers: “Kate Siklosi grew up in a family shroudedin a veil of mystery of how they came to be: the scant facts about hergrandparents and how they came to live in Canada after escaping Hungary underthe Iron Curtain in 1956; her nagymama (grandmother) dying in childbirth; hernagypapa’s (grandfather’s) grief at finding himself alone without his family inthis new country (subsequently taking out his grief by setting fire to theChildren’s Aid building and then dying in jail); the mysterious ‘neighbour’ whosexually abused Kate’s brother and cousins.”

Theonline Merriam-Webster offers that “selvage” refers to “the edge oneither side of a woven or flat-knitted fabric so finished as to preventraveling. specifically : a narrow border often of different or heavier threadsthan the fabric and sometimes in a different weave. : an edge (as of fabric orpaper) meant to be cut off and discarded.” The poems in SELVAGE arestitched together as four sequences of prose blocks, lyric fragments and image—“reasonablegrounds,” “field notes,” “lockstitch” and “radicle”—that quilt a larger narrativeof crumbles, holds, breaks, language patters and splinters, able to entirely smashedto pieces but held together by thread, across, one might say, that narrowborder; of how, near the end of the opening sequence, “drought tolerance ispassed / from parent tree to child.” There is something quite fascinating,also, in how Siklosi seeks, through a blend of image and text, to examine a storythat begins with her Hungarian grandparents, forced to leave home to emigrateto Canada during the same period as Calgary poet Helen Hajnoczky’sgrandparents, something Hajnoczky worked to examine in her own way through theblend of visuals and text of her own second collection, Magyarázni(Toronto ON: Coach House Books, 2016) [see my review of such here]. Accumulatinginto a book-length poem, Siklosi’s scraps, threads and fragments pull at those buriedelements of family lore, seeking the story to see what pulls apart,simultaneously held together by the determination and a story, notwithstanding.“being is a maze.” she writes, as part of “lockstitch,” “the sky is stitched in.cut the selvage by taking the people upon entry. you can create laws, like thatbush and that corner and how high. You can even manage it so it appears like aliving thing from space: branches and limbs with people roaming through. thethread is of course the word that holds it together: five hearts searchingtaxed land held down with pins.” Or, as part of the third section:

Everyone has the followingfundamental freedoms:
what if i told younothing dropped.
every citizen of Canadahas the right to
a landmine made ourcalves burn with
in time of real orapprehended war,
coming home. handful ofroots explode
the right to enter,remain in and leave
into light. skylarks on apond.
pursue the gaining of alivelihood
look, the year is nowgone.
life, liberty, andsecurity of the person.
i have my dad’s waves.
compelled to be a witnessin
he made me aconstellation to swing from.
law recognized by thecommunity of nations
i don’t have his hands socan’t build myself
not to be tried for itagain
a country but i haveenough ink to sink
not to be tried orpunished for it again
us into a river, bone andmind, and with
time of commission andthe time of sentencing,
this i’ll dive in andgive you everything but
a witness who testifies
the currents to remaininside his
freedoms shall not beconstrued as
rattled lungs and mistake
treaty or other rights
his ribs for home.

Thereis something, of course, quite natural to having one’s first child that promptsa particular look back at one’s history, one’s foundations; to attempt toreconcile particular elements of the past for the sake of being able to moveforward. In this way, one could even point to comparable titles, such as JessicaQ. Stark’s recent Buffalo Girl (Rochester NY: BOA Editions, 2023) [see my review of such here], as Siklosi writes through the limitations and effectsof a document, of a story, upon the body, utilizing text and stitch as a way tounfurl both family and archive, stitching one word immediately upon andfollowing another. “as if,” she writes, as part of the fourth and finalsection, “to survive was a baseline / life blossoms from a wound / how does oneescape a cycle?”

Jessica Q. Stark, Buffalo Girl

 

My mother said when I wasborn, she was afraid.

Women born in the Year ofthe Tiger are fabled as
too much in their ownstory. They’re risk-takers in

this world, whichtypically spells feminine ruin.

She laughs often at hersmall monster, leaping again into dark.

She was also afraid ofthe fourth scar;
they said she’d be rippedapart between white walls.

This country is not forthe faint-hearted; I will wear it.

This is the sentence inmy body, decorated.

I cannot (not) take itoff. (“On Passing”)

Jacksonville, Florida-based poet and editor Jessica Q. Stark’s second full-length poetrycollection, following Savage Pageant (Birds LLC, 2020) [see my review of such here], is Buffalo Girl (Rochester NY: BOA Editions, 2023). As thepress release offers, Buffalo Girl writes the author’s “mother’s fraughtimmigration to the United States from Vietnam at the end of the war through thelens of the Little Red Riding Hood fairy tale.” As Stark offers at the offsetof the poem “Phylogenetics,” “When it began isn’t clear, but isn’t it obvious that             we always had a knack / for storiesabout little girls in danger?” Stark examines, through collages of text andimage, an articulate layerings of breaks and tears, intermissions anddeflections; examining how and why stories work so hard to remove female agency.“In this body is my mother’s body,” she writes, as part of the extended “OnPassing,” “who paid the fantastic price in / fairy tales written mostly by men.”She offers elements of her mother, including pictures of her mother repeatedlyon a scooter, providing a curious echo of Hoa Nguyen’s A Thousand Times YouLose Your Treasure (Wave Books, 2021) [see my review of such here], acollection that explored her own mother’s time spent as part of a stunt motorcycletroupe in Vietnam. “You can paint a woman // by the river     bank,” Stark writes, to open the poem “ConCào Cào,” “but // you can’t ever imitate // a sound, fully. This story is //not simple.”

Playingoff the traditional American folk song “Buffalo Gals,” Stark tweaks the lyrics,offered as part of the poem “The Old Man in the Tree,” which ends: “And an oldman somewhere high // was feeling satisfied with / his meal and his lodging and// he sang: // Oh, Buffalo Girls, // won’t you come / out tonight, //come out tonight, / come out tonight, // Oh, Buffalo Girls, // won’t you comeout tonight, // and dance by the / light of the moon?” Stark offers multipleimages and tales of her mother blended with flora and fauna, as well as theimage of a figure, often male, and usually obscured or erased through that samefoliage; hidden, suggesting a wolf in the wild. “History makes little bundlesout / of the unthinkable,” she writes, as part of the title poem, “young boyscarve // three-foot breasts // to keep your story otherworldly and /ridiculous; a crisp blade slips // from view [.]”

Buffalo Girl writes out threads of Stark’s mother’shistory, and examines the cultural fascination with stories of innocent girlsand bad wolves, writing a fairy tale framing multiple versions of Little RedRiding Hood, one across another. In many ways, she writes her way into being; ofherself into that history and lineage of her mother, from one culture intoanother, and a lineage that now includes her own son. Attempting to navigatethe complications of movement and wolves, determination and difference, Stark’slyrics explore her mother’s history to place her mother on solid ground, sothat she, too, might be able to find ground, and come to terms with her mother’sstories. “For years I tried on different stories about my body,” the poem “OnPassing” begins, “to use the body as a rinsing husk. // Language here is also adelicate peapod, a shell / that forms the world and its fantastic borders. //For years I ignored the sentence in my body. // Who came and who went—a blankledger.” Stark may begin with Red Riding Hood and a myriad of wolves, encountered,fought and avoided, but this is a collection through which she explores anddiscovers what her mother taught her, whether through example or presentation,as well as what her mother is actually made of, despite violence, trauma, lossand what wolves are capable of; and what her mother is made of is considerable.Or, as the poem “Near-Death Experience” ends:

How the dark
imprints a tiny tattoo

in the shape of life’s
physical humor. I talk

my mother into
visiting my new home

in Florida. I will
see her soon.

She will say

how much

closer death
is to her now. I have
plans. I will pick

her up in an automobile
that’s painted red.

I will reserve a day
for regarding the

big, vast sea
near which

I’ve made my home.

 

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Quenton Baker

Quenton Baker is a poet, educator, and Cave Canemfellow. Their current focus is black interiority and the afterlife of slavery.Their work has appeared in The Offing, Jubilat, Vinyl, The Rumpus and elsewhere. They are a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee, and therecipient of the 2018 Arts Innovator Award from Artist Trust. They were a 2019Robert Rauschenberg Artist in Residence and a 2021 NEA Fellow. They are theauthor of  we pilot the blood  (The 3rd Thing, 2021) and ballast (HaymarketBooks, 2023).

1- How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent workcompare to your previous? How does it feel different?

Ithink anyone’s first book is huge. It’s so difficult to get a first book ofpoetry published. Most of us have to go through the terrible rigamarole ofspending hundreds of dollars on first book contests and/or praying for openreading periods and hoping you stand out enough for someone to take a chance onyour work. It’s a deeply inequitable and alienating process.

My new book, ballast, is very different from myfirst book. It’s not narrative, it’s a long poetic sequence instead ofindividual poems, it’s very much a project-based book. It’s also not concernedwith legibility for/speaking to a white audience or gaze.

2- How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?

Iactually came to hip-hop first. Poetry, with its interest in sound, meter, andthe sonic weight of the line, made it a natural progression once I gotdisillusioned with rap shit.  

3- How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does yourwriting initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appearlooking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copiousnotes?

I’ma research-based poet, so I think in terms of book-length projects. It usuallytakes a fairly long time for me to find something that can support afull-length collection. Most of my writing is reading, so I would say it’sfairly steady. I tend to read/research a lot and then spend time in bursts ofdrafting actual poems. But the whole process is writing for me.

I’mdefinitely not a poet that iterates with drafts over weeks/months/years. By thetime I even start a poem, I’ve likely gone through ten or so drafts in my head.And by the time I reach the end of a poem on the page, I’ve read it dozens oftimes and revised along the way. So it’s technically a first draft, but thefirst draft has 20+ drafts inside of it.

4- Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short piecesthat end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a"book" from the very beginning?

Poemstypically begin with images for me (even if that’s not where the poem itselfstarts, its nascence is owed to a specific image).And I’m always working on a book from the beginning.

5- Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you thesort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

Readingsare great. Poetry thrives in and requires community. There are many ways toarrive at being in community with other poets and readers, and public readingsare an important part of that. I definitely enjoy giving readings and being anaudience member.

6- Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds ofquestions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think thecurrent questions are?

AllI have in my writing are theoretical concerns, probably. My theoreticalconcerns are the same as the theoretical concerns of Black Studies: to observe,document, critically examine, celebrate, and interrogate Black life within ananti-Black world. The question in my work is: how do we live?

7– What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Dothey even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?

Ithink the writer's job is to pay attention. And to care about things. And tonot be a dick, mainly. 

8- Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult oressential (or both)?

Everyoneneeds an editor. ballast’s editor, Maya Marshall, is a divine gift.

9- What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to youdirectly)?

That90% of writing is reading.

10- What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one?How does a typical day (for you) begin?

I don’t reallykeep a routine. Outside of going to work during the week. I write when I canand when I have energy. I do everything I can to have as much energy for mywork as possible.

11- When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack ofa better word) inspiration?

GwendolynBrooks and Aimé Césaire.

12- What fragrance reminds you of home?

Doughnuts.

13- David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there anyother forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visualart?

Anyart that I encounter shapes my own art. If I’m thinking about it or reacting toit or criticizing it or praising it, I’m putting myself in dialogue with it.Which is expanding my thinking and my understanding. Those expansions alwaysshow up in some way in my work.

14 - What otherwriters or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside ofyour work?

There are toomany to list. I am indebted to so many Black writers and scholars and thinkers.The first few that come to mind are Christina Sharpe, Fred Moten, GwendolynBrooks, Aimé Césaire, Saidiya Hartman, Marwa Helal, Dawn Lundy Martin, Evie Shockley, M. NourbeSe Philip, Dionne Brand, Will Alexander, Eloise Loftin,Lorenzo Thomas, and so many others.

15- What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?

Writemy next book.

16 - If youcould pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately,what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?

IfI were better at math, I would love to be a quantum physicist.

17- What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?

Aninterest in survival, mainly.

18- What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

Thelast great book I read was I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself byMarisa Crane. The last great film I watched was the futurist documentary Wall-E.

19- What are you currently working on?

Currently,I am working on finishing a large bag of tiny citrus fruits. 

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Four poems for a Midwinter Day

for/afterBernadette Mayer (1945-2022)

 

1.

Love                       asall transition, flight—a concentrated dash

ofwindowsill, groceries,
childcare                                      ,this reinvention

ofblue. What day is it? Will I be soon?           Our elder child
today at school                  , ouryounger,

here,this       lingering cough. Another grey weekday. Aoife drags

herselfin bare feet, blanket wrapped                          pyjamas. I hold up facts

,a desperation                                        of snowy trees
andtires                  , white streets. Thistime   of plague.

 

2.

Asong                              ofBernadette,                   what hand
acrossthis biographical feature

ofchildren, laundry, library. How

theI                       yearns. A way to make                 and making, to

makesense, what have you. Where
youhave gone. This richness, an articulation

ofjournaled time. My love is like

alobster, or                       a red             balloon, the pinnacle
ofwindow pane, this                             frosted          peak.

 

3.

Acurve, and tension                              of old masters. Be strong,
weare here             for a reason,

orreasons. An accidental

changeof speed. Be strong, Bernadette,
Aoife,                    Robert Alan. Be memory,mindful                   , as much

asyour own heart. This turbulence                  of
suchtextured surfaces. Perhaps

thereis no cure                           or respite. I wonder: do

thehouse mice                 underneath             thestairs
declare:We have

agood life, here. This poem                  could have been an email.

 

4.

Theday, the day, it            gets away fromme.
Theday.

 

Touch the Donkey supplement: new interviews with Brown, Kowalski, Schultz, Clark + Byrne,

Anticipating the release next week of the thirty-seventh of Touch the Donkey [a small poetry journal], why not check out the interviews that have appeared over the past few weeks with contributors to the thirty-sixth issue: Pam Brown, Shane Kowalski, Kathy Lou Schultz, Hilary Clark and Ted Byrne

Interviews with contributors to the first thirty-five issues (more than two hundred and thirty interviews to date) remain online, including: Garrett Caples, Brenda Coultas, Sheila Murphy, Chris Turnbull and Elee Kraljii Gardiner, Stuart Ross, Leah Sandals, Tamara Best, Nathan Austin, Jade Wallace, Monica Mody, Barry McKinnon, Katie Naughton, Cecilia Stuart, Benjamin Niespodziany, Jérôme Melançon, Margo LaPierre, Sarah Pinder, Genevieve Kaplan, Maw Shein Win, Carrie Hunter, Lillian Nećakov, Nate Logan, Hugh Thomas, Emily Brandt, David Buuck, Jessi MacEachern, Sue Bracken, Melissa Eleftherion, Valerie Witte, Brandon Brown, Yoyo Comay, Stephen Brockwell, Jack Jung, Amanda Auerbach, IAN MARTIN, Paige Carabello, Emma Tilley, Dana Teen Lomax, Cat Tyc, Michael Turner, Sarah Alcaide-Escue, Colby Clair Stolson, Tom Prime, Bill Carty, Christina Vega-Westhoff, Robert Hogg, Simina Banu, MLA Chernoff, Geoffrey Olsen, Douglas Barbour, Hamish Ballantyne, JoAnna Novak, Allyson Paty, Lisa Fishman, Kate Feld, Isabel Sobral Campos, Jay MillAr, Lisa Samuels, Prathna Lor, George Bowering, natalie hanna, Jill Magi, Amelia Does, Orchid Tierney, katie o’brien, Lily Brown, Tessa Bolsover, émilie kneifel, Hasan Namir, Khashayar Mohammadi, Naomi Cohn, Tom Snarsky, Guy Birchard, Mark Cunningham, Lydia Unsworth, Zane Koss, Nicole Raziya Fong, Ben Robinson, Asher Ghaffar, Clara Daneri, Ava Hofmann, Robert R. Thurman, Alyse Knorr, Denise Newman, Shelly Harder, Franco Cortese, Dale Tracy, Biswamit Dwibedy, Emily Izsak, Aja Couchois Duncan, José Felipe Alvergue, Conyer Clayton, Roxanna Bennett, Julia Drescher, Michael Cavuto, Michael Sikkema, Bronwen Tate, Emilia Nielsen, Hailey Higdon, Trish Salah, Adam Strauss, Katy Lederer, Taryn Hubbard, Michael Boughn, David Dowker, Marie Larson, Lauren Haldeman, Kate Siklosi, robert majzels, Michael Robins, Rae Armantrout, Stephanie Strickland, Ken Hunt, Rob Manery, Ryan Eckes, Stephen Cain, Dani Spinosa, Samuel Ace, Howie Good, Rusty Morrison, Allison Cardon, Jon Boisvert, Laura Theobald, Suzanne Wise, Sean Braune, Dale Smith, Valerie Coulton, Phil Hall, Sarah MacDonell, Janet Kaplan, Kyle Flemmer, Julia Polyck-O’Neill, A.M. O’Malley, Catriona Strang, Anthony Etherin, Claire Lacey, Sacha Archer, Michael e. Casteels, Harold Abramowitz, Cindy Savett, Tessy Ward, Christine Stewart, David James Miller, Jonathan Ball, Cody-Rose Clevidence, mwpm, Andrew McEwan, Brynne Rebele-Henry, Joseph Mosconi, Douglas Barbour and Sheila Murphy, Oliver Cusimano, Sue Landers, Marthe Reed, Colin Smith, Nathaniel G. Moore, David Buuck, Kate Greenstreet, Kate Hargreaves, Shazia Hafiz Ramji, Erín Moure, Sarah Swan, Buck Downs, Kemeny Babineau, Ryan Murphy, Norma Cole, Lea Graham, kevin mcpherson eckhoff, Oana Avasilichioaei, Meredith Quartermain, Amanda Earl, Luke Kennard, Shane Rhodes, Renée Sarojini Saklikar, Sarah Cook, François Turcot, Gregory Betts, Eric Schmaltz, Paul Zits, Laura Sims, Stephen Collis, Mary Kasimor, Billy Mavreas, damian lopes, Pete Smith, Sonnet L’Abbé, Katie L. Price, a rawlings, Suzanne Zelazo, Helen Hajnoczky, Kathryn MacLeod, Shannon Maguire, Sarah Mangold, Amish Trivedi, Lola Lemire Tostevin, Aaron Tucker, Kayla Czaga, Jason Christie, Jennifer Kronovet, Jordan Abel, Deborah Poe, Edward Smallfield, ryan fitzpatrick, Elizabeth Robinson, nathan dueck, Paige Taggart, Christine McNair, Stan Rogal, Jessica Smith, Nikki Sheppy, Kirsten Kaschock, Lise Downe, Lisa Jarnot, Chris Turnbull, Gary Barwin, Susan Briante, derek beaulieu, Megan Kaminski, Roland Prevost, Emily Ursuliak, j/j hastain, Catherine Wagner, Susanne Dyckman, Susan Holbrook, Julie Carr, David Peter Clark, Pearl Pirie, Eric Baus, Pattie McCarthy, Camille Martin and Gil McElroy.

The forthcoming thirty-seventh issue features new writing by: Micah Ballard, Robert Hogg, Ben Meyerson, Leigh Chadwick, Junie Désil, Devon Rae, Benjamin Niespodziany and Barbara Tomash.

And of course, copies of the first thirty-five issues are still very much available. Why not subscribe? Included, as well, as part of the above/ground press annual subscription! (did you know that above/ground press turns thirty years old this year?) We even have our own Facebook group. It’s remarkably easy.

photo credit: Memphis Donkey by Kathy Lou Schultz,

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Caelan Ernest

Caelan Ernest is a poet and a performer. They are the author of two collections: night mode (2023) and the forthcoming ICONOCLAST (2024), published by Everybody Press. They live in Brooklyn with their cat named Salad.

1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
night mode is my first book! While writing the early draft during my MFA, I challenged myself to look inward—to examine myself in complicated and uncomfortable ways I hadn't before. I was forced to reconcile the person that I thought I was with the person I had really become (/am still becoming). While working on this book, I changed my pronouns and navigated crucial shifts in my life. The collection is just about to enter the world thanks to the wonderful folks at Everybody Press. I'm beginning to celebrate it. Even though it was painful to write, I've always believed in it. I'm confident I'll find relief in the act of letting it go—letting this strange, glitchy book find its way in the world.

Whereas night mode is a book-length serial poem written in five poetic sections, I'm writing shorter, punchier poems these days. I've been revisiting the New York School (especially after the passing of Bernadette Mayer), as well as concrete and visual poetry. In general, I love to play with and utilize negative space on the page, soundwork, enjambment, and all/no caps. As I'm working on my second manuscript, I've also been trying out triple sonnets and crowns.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I began writing poems in middle school after reading Sylvia Plath for the first time. I wanted to emulate her coyness, as well as the music and repetition in her work: "You do not do, you do not do / Any more, black shoe."

In high school, I took creative writing electives every chance that I had. Through these classes, I was exposed to more poets: Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes, E. E. Cummings, etc. I also had a Tumblr blog where I uploaded hundreds of poems. Looking back, I suppose the blog was a resource for me to find and build community with other writers because I didn't know many poets in real life.

My senior quote in high school was excerpted from James Wright's poem "A Blessing": "Suddenly I realize / That if I stepped out of my body I would break / Into blossom."

From there, my love for poetry blossomed. Became boundless.

3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
Sometimes in an instant, sometimes over the course of many years. It depends on the project, on the concept, on the poem. My notes app is cluttered with drafts, even if just single lines.

While the poems in night mode underwent many revisions since I first wrote them, many of my newer poems feel nearly finished right at the first draft. It's all about how much attention the poem or project asks for.

As Simone Weil says, “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.”

Sometimes that generosity is knowing when to step away, when to turn your attention elsewhere.

4 - Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
Similarly to the last question, it depends. Sometimes a poem first appears as a thought bouncing around my head while I'm doing something mundane, like commuting to work on the subway. Other times I'll wake up with a poem caught in my throat from a dream I only half remember.

Regardless, this moment of rapture is one of my favorite things about being a poet: when you become so taken by the poem that you're consumed by it. You give yourself to the poem, and rather than embody it, you let it take control of you.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
Performing is a massive part of my life as a poet. Many of my poems are playful—even theatrical—so performing them aloud helps me activate them. It's as terrifying as it is electrifying.

I love sharing space with other writers. Participating in and attending readings offers the opportunity to make new discoveries, where otherwise perhaps you wouldn't.  

6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?
night mode could not have been written had I not read A Cyborg Manifesto by Donna Haraway, particularly the connection between gender and the function of the "cyborg" in feminism. Queer theory and identity politics play a heavy role in my work. I'm also interested in digital and comparative media studies, based on my interests outside of poetry: reality television, films, music, fashion, etc. A lot of my work is persona-based, where I allow myself to explore another "me."

As Susan Howe writes in Debths, "What I lack is myself."

I am always seeking myself, which I believe so many of us are...

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
In a recent NYT article that made the rounds on Twitter, a writer asserted that "poetry is dead." Or, that poetry has been dead for one hundred years. This was news to me. Had I known, I'd have picked out my best dress to wear to the funeral!

I don't know if there is one particular role each writer should aim to fulfill. Rather, I think a realistic goal should be to continue writing, reading, and championing our craft. To explore the archives and the legacies of writers of the past, and to carry forth their legacies while challenging, critiquing, and re-evaluating the systems and structures in which they (and we) live(d).

And instead of seeking to do something "new", we'd be better off spending our time reading other writers to better understand that everything that feels "new" has already been done. That knowing brings with it its own kind of freedom, away from ego.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Both! It's impossible to see the full shape of your own work and how it's landing, even when you take time and distance away from it. Having another set of eyes is necessary. It's horrifying to make yourself vulnerable and share work with an outside editor, but that fear can be productive, especially when you have the right editor. An editor you can trust.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
This answer is sort of a follow up to my last. My mentor during my MFA, the fabulous poet Laura Elrick, gave me advice ahead of my first critique, where I'd share my poetry with my cohort for the first time. She said, "Over time, you will begin to trust who to turn your ear to. You'll notice who is engaging with your work on the level that you require—who in the room is giving you the feedback you need."

This is a paraphrase of a much longer conversation, but this advice has stuck with me since. It applies to so much more than just a critique in a classroom, as Weil's framing of attention also suggests.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to performance)? What do you see as the appeal?
In a poetry class during my senior year of undergrad, my professor, the amazing poet Peter Covino, expressed how performative he found my work to be. I had a deep fear of reading in public, so I always did my best to avoid it.

In order for me to hear the music in my poems, he had me read and re-read the same poem over and over again in front of him, until the cadences started to feel more natural in my mouth, rolling off my tongue. This moment radically changed not only how I understood my own poems; it deepened my respect for the art of performing. How a poem can be activated through performance.

11 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I don't have a concrete writing routine. When the idea strikes, I hit my notes app or open up a Pages doc on my computer and begin writing.

As for how a typical day begins for me: 0nce my alarm goes off in the morning, my cat, Salad, meows in my face and we cuddle for a bit. Then I scroll my phone, drink coffee, and proceed with my daily routine: shower, shave, and do my hair if it's wash day (curly haired folks will know the struggle!).

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Poetry collections and music, mostly. I adore all of Mitski's discography, especially her earlier albums. I've also been returning to the books proxy by r. erica doyle and frank: sonnets by Diane Seuss when I need some inspiration, as I'm working on my current project.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
The ocean; the reek of the tide when it's low.

Fresh laundry.

Summer grass.

Fallen autumnal leaves underfoot.

14 - David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?
Absolutely! During the peak of Covid in 2020, I experimented with video-poem performances using clips I shot and distorted on my iPhone. I was inspired by Carolee Schneemann's work, particularly Fuses . I'd like to get back into making these types of videos.

I would also love to explore working with music and sound work as part of my performance practice. I listen to glitchy hyperpop music, and I feel its overlap with my poetry. I can only imagine what it would be like to be on the other end, finally learning Ableton and making music in the genre myself.

15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
A few I've already mentioned, but: Sylvia Plath, Diane Seuss, Bernadette Mayer, Joyelle McSweeney, r. erica doyle, Andrea Abi-Karam, Etel Adnan, Joshua Escobar, imogen xtian smith, Laura Henriksen, Michelle Tea, CAConrad, Lindsey Boldt, Wanda Coleman, danilo machado, Marwa Helal, Chia-Lun Chang, and countless others.

16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
I've hardly traveled, so I'd love to explore more parts of the world. I've always wanted to go to Tokyo, ever since I was a child, so that's on the bucket list.

17 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
I work in book publishing and publicity, which I enjoy. Alternatively, I could see myself having worked in fashion, most likely as a stylist. I never really gave myself the opportunity to explore it, but I love styling myself, and occasionally even my friends on a night out, when they ask. I have far too much clothing. Really, you should see the state of my room right now...

18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Sylvia Plath once wrote, "I am a writer... I am a genius of a writer; I have it in me." Encountering this quote for the first time wrecked me. Not the idea of being a "genius", but the notion that writing is something that comes from within. In. I'd never felt so affirmed.

During the beginning of undergrad, I considered a couple of other career paths to explore: film and fashion. But I realized that I didn't need to pursue a career in either industry as long as I found ways to incorporate them in my life in ways that feel organic and still fulfilling. I love thrift shopping, and I love watching movies. Two of my favorite hobbies.

19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Nevada by Imogen Binnie is so damn good. I'm late to the game, but I thankfully caught wind of it after it was just recently republished. It's fun, fierce, relatable in the best and worst ways. I couldn't put it down, no matter how much I wanted to savor it. I can only imagine what it would have meant for me had I read it when it first came out in 2013.

I'm a horror movie fanatic, and one of my favorite films is Jordan Peele's Nope. I love its contribution to the horror-alien genre (and how it subverts it). That one scene during the Star Lasso Experience rattled me to my core, turning my stomach. It still does, every time I rewatch it.

20 - What are you currently working on?
My second collection of poems, ICONOCLAST, which is scheduled for publication in 2024, also with Everybody Press! It's an ambitious project, and I've been trying to find time to write new work while sifting through old poems to better assess how far along I am in the process. But for me, this is the fun part. Stay tuned!

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Chaudiere Books : six questions interview series + National Poetry Month,

In case you haven't been aware, I've been conducting a weekly interview series over at the Chaudiere Books blog for some time now (some one hundred and seventy weeks now, I would say), interviewing a slew of current and former Ottawa-based writers in my ongoing 'six questions' series (see the full list of authors with links to their interviews here, including names of forthcoming interviewees as they happen). And don't forget about our tenth annual National Poetry Month series! For the tenth year running, during the month of April we're posting a new poem every day, with new poems so far this year by Khashayar Mohammadi, Maw Shein Win and Jérôme Melançon (see the full list of names from the entire series with links, here). Just who might be next?

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Dale Tracy

Dale Tracy is theauthor of the chapbook The Mystery of Ornament (above/ground press,2020), the chapbook Celebration Machine (Proper Tales Press, 2018), thechappoem What It Satisfies (Puddles of Sky Press, 2016), and themonograph With the Witnesses: Poetry, Compassion, and ClaimedExperience (McGill-Queen’s, 2017). Her first full-length poetry collection is Derelict Bicycles (Anvil Press, 2022). Her poetry has appeared inpublications like filling Station, Touch the Donkey, and TheGoose: A Journal of Arts, Environment,and Culture in Canada. She is afaculty member in the English Department at Kwantlen Polytechnic University andlives on unceded Coast Salish territory. 

1 - How did yourfirst book or chapbook change your life? How does your most recent work compareto your previous? How does it feel different?

The process of selection for thesepublications helped me know better which sorts of my own poems I like best.Through that process, I think that I’m increasing my precision when I write.

2 - How did youcome to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?

I think that I process the world in away that is like reading and writing poems. My memory is not great in terms offacts and chronology, even for my own life. I seem to remember around things (pattern,mood, and relationship) more than the things themselves.

3 - How long doesit take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initiallycome quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close totheir final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?

I don’t often have a project in mind.I write and see what happens, with many returns for revision.

4 - Where does apoem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combininginto a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the verybeginning?

I think in short pieces. A longerproject only comes into being when enough short poems call together.

5 - Are publicreadings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort ofwriter who enjoys doing readings?

I like the communal listening ofpublic readings. It’s a form of attention that feels, to me, uncommon.

6 - Do you have anytheoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are youtrying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questionsare?

I’m trying to answer the questions ofhow to live and what sorts of things living can mean.

The theoretical concerns involved intrying to answer those questions are something like these:

-what meaning is

-what kind of knowledge poetry canmake

-how reading and writing areexperiences

-how expectations held in form andpattern shape meaning

-how much to directly express and howmuch to indirectly enact the ethical responsibilities of entering publicdiscourse

-how experience (idiosyncratic) fitswith communication (shared conventions)

-how environments shape theenvironment of my mental life

-what it is one aims for when itisn’t mimesis (is it ornament?)

-what the relationship between lifeand art is (since art is part of life)

-what self-reflexive art performs

7 – What do you seethe current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one?What do you think the role of the writer should be?

I think writers have as many roles aspeople in general do, in that we need people doing all kinds of differentthings so that we can each get a more complete idea of the world throughcollected efforts.

8 - Do you find theprocess of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

I wish I could have an editor for allmy actions. It’s comforting to have someone else confirm that what I’m doing isworking out before it carries on in its life in the wider world.

9 - What is thebest piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?

I can’t remember if anyone told methis advice, or if I learned from watching: the best way to write poetry andhappen upon poetic opportunities is to be around other poets. (In-person eventsaren’t the only way—online, on radio, and in the mail have been other ways thatI’ve felt part of poetry community.)

10 - How easy hasit been for you to move between genres (poetry to critical prose)? What do yousee as the appeal?

I’m trying to answer the samequestions in poetry and in critical prose, so I don’t feel the move in thatway. Writing in critical prose took a lot more training for me because theconventions are more standardized and because I think in a spiral rather than alinear shape. Spirals are great for poetry.

11 - What kind ofwriting routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does atypical day (for you) begin?

I write for poetry, for teaching, andfor research, so I usually have multiple documents open to move between. I’mwriting or reading something for most of the day, most days.

12 - When yourwriting gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word)inspiration?

I learn about something new, usuallyabout biology or physics.

13 - What fragrancereminds you of home?

The smell of the pulp and papermill—not a desirable smell, but it’s a truth of how encompassing industry canbe, especially in a small town. 

14 - David W.McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other formsthat influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?

Nature and science influence my workthe most. I think this is because I use writing poetry as a process tounderstand things I don’t already understand.

15 - What otherwriters or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside ofyour work?

The answer to this question isdifferent all the time (I need different writers at different moments). Facedwith questions like this one, I panic, and I get the urge to list everythingI’ve ever read. I think that the truest answer to this question is that I need ahuge diversity of writers and writings for work and my life more broadly morethan I need any particular ones.

16 - What would youlike to do that you haven't yet done?

I can’t think of anything! I mostly approachthe world with an open curiosity instead of goals. I think that not havingspecific goals in mind helps me to notice exciting opportunities when they getnearby.

17 - If you couldpick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, whatdo you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?

I would like a job that lets me bemoving around outside, like a mail carrier. Unfortunately, my body wouldn’thave put up with that work very well. I’m lucky that I have the job I have andthat I can walk to work.

18 - What made youwrite, as opposed to doing something else?

I feel best when I am reading orwriting. I need that kind of disappearance of myself to recharge for being inthe world.

19 - What was thelast great book you read? What was the last great film?

Books: Ursula K. LeGuin’s The Dispossessed; Helen Oyeyemi’s Gingerbread; Nick Harkaway’s Gnomon

(I obsessed over what “great” mightmean to people, and then I cheated with three. They’re all novels because I canstraightforwardly tell you if I enjoyed reading a novel, but for poetry andplays I find that my feelings about them have to do with what I do with them inmy mind after I read—I enjoy putting them into new action.)

Film: Swan Song (2021)

20 - What are youcurrently working on?

At Kwantlen Polytechnic University, I ampreparing to teach a course studying life writing and I am working as part ofan interdisciplinary team to foster critical and creative thinking aroundclimate change and social inequalities related to climate.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;