Michael Dennis : part three

When you require renewal, is there a particular poem or book that you return to? A particular author?

As much as I return to poetry I return to novels and movies and music.  There are a certain few novels that I read every few years.  I just finished rereading The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera.  I don’t know how many times I’ve read it but the ending always surprises me.  Francis Ford Coppola’s “The Godfather” is a movie I return to, but I also love rereading Mario Puzo’s The Godfather to shake out the gobwebs.  John Irving’s splendid Cider House Rules is a book I return to, almost as a gift to myself.

At present I’m reading a fair bit of new poetry, daily, I’m going through fifteen to twenty poetry titles most week, just to keep up with the blog.  I think because I’m reading so much poetry that when I need to recharge the batteries I go outside poetry.  I listen to a lot of music although I tend to listen to music I already know instead of searching out new music.  I am a lazy man.

Right now I’m reading Paul Auster’s 4321, an autobiography by Bruce Springsteen, a book of short stories by Alison MacLeod, All the Beloved Ghosts and a book of feminist essays called Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay.

Allie Marini : part twelve

12. Why is poetry important?

Because it makes you stop & squint & not trample the flowers you hadn’t noticed because you were so focused on where you were going.

Jennifer L. Knox : part eight

What poets changed the way you thought about writing?

In the last seven months, Mei-mei Berssenbrugge, Shane McCrae, Victoria Chang, and Ada Limón

Lauren Brazeal : part three

When you require renewal, is there a particular poem or book that you return to? A particular author?

I continually return to Sylvia Plath’s “The Rabbit Catcher” for different reasons. Mostly it’s the pure, burning energy in the poem. She was so unafraid to show her madness and raw power in that piece. Whenever I feel timid or like I should be more subtle, I return to “The Rabbit Catcher” and am reminded to never look away from my anger or sadness or joy—whatever emotion I’m trying to communicate in my writing at the time.

Sarah Venart : part four

What do you find most difficult about writing poetry?

Audience is hard. You have to make space for the reader and to leave room  for her around my words isn’t always easy. I forget about her while composing, so then when I edit, I use that old adage from fashion about accessories: if I have four things going on in my poem, I remove two. 

The certainty that my poems are, like, useful is important to me.  I’m not sure if I can communicate this well, but I’ll try.  Roots and upbringing are important and I really want to write poems that would be useful to my grandmother (a coalminer’s wife) or the neighbours around where I grew up, for example. I think of their female voices—gruff, tough, survivalist— and I want them to appreciate what I’m saying. But as far as I know, they had no use for poetry. So to make a marriage between poetry and use is difficult but I try. That is what I want to illuminate in my poems.  I spoke to Marge Piercy about this a lot when I worked with her last summer. As you know, use is important to her too (See “To Be of Use”).

Matty Layne Glasgow : part four

What poets changed the way you thought about writing?

Two friends and mentors who helped me believe I could write are Sara Cooper and Long Chu. Both phenomenal poets in their own right, Long and Sara not only read my work and provided patient feedback when I had no idea what I was doing, they also introduced me to an array of poets that changed the way I read, write, and live.

Long lent me copies of Richard Siken’s Crush and Carl Phillips’ Cortège, which were the gay masterpieces I never knew I’d been waiting for all my life. Up until that point, most of my poetry immersion was from my French studies as an undergraduate. I enjoyed Baudelaire’s musicality and visceral verse, but Arthur Rimbaud was (and still is) one of my favorite writers. However, Crush and Cortège helped knock something loose in me, and I felt like I could actually write about myself, who I was. Siken and Phillips each bring a distinct beauty and candor to their writing, and that candor pushed me toward an unabashed reclamation of my queerness—something that, even in my mid-twenties, I hadn’t been completely comfortable with, and certainly not comfortable writing about.

Sara lent me a copy of Claudia Rankine’s Citizen, a stunning book that defied form and remains my go-to when I’m in need of inspiration on lyric mastery. Beyond craft and concerning the content, Citizen obviously challenged many of us to examine our whiteness, to recognize micro-aggressions, and to better understand the inherent racism people of color experience in our society. As a young writer and a cisgender white man, this was a pivotal book for me. It caused me to examine myself and my own behavior, while also putting a mirror up to my privilege—a reflection I’d been naïve to throughout my youth and into my young adulthood. So, without Sara and Long, I wouldn’t be a writer at all. And without Siken and Phillips and Rankine, I wouldn’t be the writer I am today.

Robin Durnford : part five

Why is poetry important?

This is a big pretentious question, but I think it’s extremely important. Poetry is more important than ever. Poetry isn’t capitalist. I mean I know it’s Instagrammable now, but poetry itself cannot be monetized (or can it?). Well, literature can’t (or can it?). But actually, although I lean this way politically, I also know that poetry cannot be socialist. It can try! Poetry, like all art, is about telling the truth, about being honest, about saying fuck the bullshit whatever the bullshit of the day may be. People get so intimidated by canonized poets these days, but, Jesus, so many poets were ignored and basically drummed out of the discourse of the day. That asshole Dylan Thomas, I forgot about him, he was telling the world something, but it wasn’t anything that it particularly wanted to hear, but his words? They had music. I’m a romantic that way. I believe in aesthetics. I don’t think making something beautiful, though, should make you snotty towards the world or those who don’t get it. I can’t say I’m always good at this, but I do know that poetry is not for poets. Poetry should be for the world. Actually, Thomas’s own “In my Craft or Sullen Art” sums it up!

Coda: This was fun. Thanks for giving poets an opportunity to talk and be heard!