What do you find most difficult about writing poetry?
Honing in on the thickest meat. I generally do not begin a poem with a specific purpose in mind, rather, my inner world/truth reveals itself to me as I write, so figuring just precisely where the truest kernal lies is the hardest part for me.
Saturday, 30 June 2018
Friday, 29 June 2018
Darren C. Demaree : part four
How important is music to your poetry?
The music and energy of the poem can be a driving force of the work. The presence or absence of the music in each poem is one of the first feelings the reader picks up on. It can be a tricky proposition depending on the tone of the piece, but if you can nail the music of it the poem might transcend the narrative, the landscape, the abstraction, etc.
The music and energy of the poem can be a driving force of the work. The presence or absence of the music in each poem is one of the first feelings the reader picks up on. It can be a tricky proposition depending on the tone of the piece, but if you can nail the music of it the poem might transcend the narrative, the landscape, the abstraction, etc.
Thursday, 28 June 2018
Molly Cross-Blanchard : part five
Why is poetry important?
Rather than comment on why poetry is important for the world and why everyone should read poetry (which they should, btw), I’m going to approach this question a bit selfishly. Poetry is important to me because it’s a way of turning my thoughts and feelings into nuggets of truth that I can digest. I was always intrigued by journaling as a kid. All my girlfriends journaled, drew hearts around their crushes’ names, slandered their parents with pink and green gel pens. And I did, too (this was often a sleepover activity), but something about it always felt false. I couldn’t connect to the words in my Lizzie Maguire diary like my friends seemed to; there was something about what I was feeling that just wouldn’t transfer to the page. When I started seriously writing poetry, it was like I’d discovered a life hack for working through my own shit without having to go to a therapist. Poetry is emotion magic.
Rather than comment on why poetry is important for the world and why everyone should read poetry (which they should, btw), I’m going to approach this question a bit selfishly. Poetry is important to me because it’s a way of turning my thoughts and feelings into nuggets of truth that I can digest. I was always intrigued by journaling as a kid. All my girlfriends journaled, drew hearts around their crushes’ names, slandered their parents with pink and green gel pens. And I did, too (this was often a sleepover activity), but something about it always felt false. I couldn’t connect to the words in my Lizzie Maguire diary like my friends seemed to; there was something about what I was feeling that just wouldn’t transfer to the page. When I started seriously writing poetry, it was like I’d discovered a life hack for working through my own shit without having to go to a therapist. Poetry is emotion magic.
Adrian Ernesto Cepeda : part one
His poetry has been featured
in The Yellow Chair Review, Frontier Poetry, poeticdiversity, The Wild Word,
The Fem, Rigorous, Palette Poetry, The Yellow Chair Review and Lunch Ticket’s
Special Issue: Celebrating 20 Years of Antioch University Los Angeles MFA in
Creative Writing.
One of
his poems was named the winner of Subterranean Blue Poetry’s 2016
"The Children of Orpheus" Anthology Contest and two of his poems
“Buzz Me” and “Estranged Fruit” were nominated for Best of the Net in
2015 and 2016.
Adrian
is an LA Poet who has a BA from the University of Texas at San Antonio and he
is also a graduate of the MFA program at Antioch University in Los
Angeles where he lives with his wife and their cat Woody Gold. You can connect
with Adrian on his website: http://www.adrianernestocepeda.com/
Photo credit: Rachael A. Warecki
Photo credit: Rachael A. Warecki
1. What are you working on?
Currently, I am working on a manuscript on poems for my
Mami. My mother passed away in November. It’s been so difficult because for
years she was a champion of my poetry. She gave me the gift of la poesia. And
now that my first chapbook, So Many Flowers, So Little Time has been published
for Red Mare and my full-length poetry collection Flashes & Verses…Becoming Attractions
just released, published by Unsolicited Press, she is not here to see my books
come to life. For years, I sent my Mami poems for her birthday and Christmas.
My Papi gave me an envelope of those poems and I’ve written so many more since
her passing, I am putting them together in a book in her honor. Still needs
work. Mother’s Day was tough for me. So many milestones of mourning left for
the first year. It is slowly coming together but not ready.
In the
meantime, I have two manuscripts of erotic love poems that I am editing and
ready to shop around. Poems that would be perfect for couples to share. The
themes of these collections reflect Lawrence Ferlinghetti who once famously
said, “Poetry is a naked woman, a naked man, and the distance between them.”
This is where my creative voice comes in, trying to reach my reader somewhere
between imagination, fantasy and desire.
Wednesday, 27 June 2018
MLA Chernoff : part four
What other poetry books have you been
reading lately?
When I’m not
close-reading Joe Rosenblatt and A.M. Klein’s respective bodies of work
(they’re the focus of the first chapter of my dissertation), I’m mostly reading
friendos and/or acquaintances. The Metatron catalogue, for instance, is brimming with talented poets whom’st’d’ve I
really admire, such as Liz Bowen, Alex Manley, and Sennah Yee. Bowen’s Sugarblood brought me to tears AND fears
when I read it a few weeks ago.
I’ve been
revisiting a lot of work by Adeena
Karasick. I highly recommend her Gap Riot Press chapbook, Salomé: Woman of Valor,
which I felt the need to read quite a few times. Stylistically, it is in
difference to older texts like Genrecide
and Mêmewars, in the sense that it’s hyperbolically musical, and (for me personally)
acts as a kind of guide to some of Karasick’s older works.
It wouldn’t be
surprising if they were already sold out, but I’m really excited to get a hold
of Dani Spinosa’s Chant Uhm (sound poem
for Kathleen Hanna) and Incessantly
(for Mariah Carey), as well as Kate Siklosi’s MAY DAY, each of which are available through no press.
I’m obsessed
with Eric Schmaltz’s Surfaces––it’s a sensuous rapture, sounding touch and touching sound, neatly
packaged into various states of visual disarray. You know?
Whenever I’m
anxious, I pick up Darcie Wilder’s literally show me a healthy person and skip to a random page. It’s a really good book to vape
to.
Kristin Garth : coda
How did you first engage with poetry?
I remember the first poet who I ever saw performing their work. I was in early elementary school, and we all came to the cafeteria to hear a poet. Even then I guess I had pre-conceived notions of what a poet was. I expected someone professorial. Instead it was a man who looked like he came down off a mountain. He was in fact from the Ozarks. I looked for his book which I still have somewhere in my library, and I was unable to locate it to tell you his name. I was just smitten with him. I loved watching him own his identity which was so unique and tied to his place, his unique experience. He was a performer and an individual. It taught me that you didn’t have to be from a big city or slick or pretentious to be a poet. I am from a small town, Gulf Breeze, Florida, and he was from a smaller place than me, but he was a traveling, performing poet. You just have to do the easiest and hardest thing in the world: be yourself. A person who can do that, I think, can own any room or microphone or page. You have to tell your story like it’s the most important story in the world. If you do it right, it is.
I remember the first poet who I ever saw performing their work. I was in early elementary school, and we all came to the cafeteria to hear a poet. Even then I guess I had pre-conceived notions of what a poet was. I expected someone professorial. Instead it was a man who looked like he came down off a mountain. He was in fact from the Ozarks. I looked for his book which I still have somewhere in my library, and I was unable to locate it to tell you his name. I was just smitten with him. I loved watching him own his identity which was so unique and tied to his place, his unique experience. He was a performer and an individual. It taught me that you didn’t have to be from a big city or slick or pretentious to be a poet. I am from a small town, Gulf Breeze, Florida, and he was from a smaller place than me, but he was a traveling, performing poet. You just have to do the easiest and hardest thing in the world: be yourself. A person who can do that, I think, can own any room or microphone or page. You have to tell your story like it’s the most important story in the world. If you do it right, it is.
Tuesday, 26 June 2018
M. Stone : part two
Has your consideration of poetry changed since you began?
I didn’t start seriously writing poetry until college, and today, I think I’m much more flexible with myself regarding what constitutes a poem than I was when I was learning about form and meter. I primarily write free verse, and I’m reaching a point where I don’t feel like my poems are less than if they veer into narrative or confessional territory. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with poetry being accessible.
I didn’t start seriously writing poetry until college, and today, I think I’m much more flexible with myself regarding what constitutes a poem than I was when I was learning about form and meter. I primarily write free verse, and I’m reaching a point where I don’t feel like my poems are less than if they veer into narrative or confessional territory. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with poetry being accessible.
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