Susan Glickman : part four

What are you working on?

A couple of weeks ago I began a series of prose poems about common tools, paired with drawings of the same objects. I had just finished four years of art school and wanted to mate image and text in some way. So far, I have written poems about and made drawings of a hammer, a knife, secateurs, and clamps. I have no idea how many tools I will address, or whether I will complete this project. It’s too early to tell! I spent about ten years writing and rewriting the poems based on Chopin’s 24 Preludes that appeared in my last book, What We Carry. In the end, I only included fourteen of them.

Stephen Page : part three

How do you know when a poem is finished?

When the poem tells you it is finished.

James Arthur : part five

Why is poetry important? 

Writing a good poem means capturing truth through language. To do that, you have to avoid cliché and you need to pry open your unexamined habits of thought -- so writing a poem, or interpreting one, involves analytical thinking and the precise control of language. The arts in general encourage empathy, curiosity, and imagination.

It’s easy to undervalue those things because their benefits are hard to quantify, but Donald Trump could not have been elected President of the United States if there hadn’t been a widespread failure of empathy, analytical thought, and attention to the nuances of language. In my life as a creative writing professor, I sometimes get students to read George Orwell’s “Politics and the English Language,” in which he writes, “In our time, political speech and writing are largely the defense of the indefensible … Thus political language has to consist largely of euphemism, question-begging and sheer cloudy vagueness.” Orwell wrote that in 1945, but it remains true.

Stephen Furlong : part one

Stephen Furlong received his M.A. in Professional Writing from Southeast Missouri State University. He is the author of the chapbook What Loss Taught Me, which was published by Nostrovia! Press in Fall 2018. His poems, interviews, and book reviews have appeared in Louisiana Literature, Bone & Ink, and Full Stop, among others. He currently serves as a Staff Reviewer for LitStyle, a subset of the literary journal Five:2:One. He can be found on Twitter @StephenJFurlong.

How did you first engage with poetry?

I was fortunate to have a grade school English teacher who had a passion for poetry; her name was Mrs. Smircich and, for her class, we were required to memorize two poems and recite them in class. I cannot recall the poems I memorized, but there are two bright light bulbs of memory from that experience: we were forbade from memorizing Shel Silverstein and I was introduced to the first poem that truly shook my core from the inside—“Trees” by Joyce Kilmer. While some of my classmates snickered at “breast” and “bosom”, the lull of the rhymes reminded me of prayer. Every time I am awe-struck by nature Kilmer’s spirit nods in approval. That year I ended up reading a lot of Robert Frost who was the first poet I ever loved. As it were, I had a healthy respect for nature poets so I found Emerson eventually, and before I knew it, my love of poetry had begun.

Anne Walsh Donnelly : part five

What other poetry books have you been reading lately?

I tend to have a lot of poetry books on my bedside locker at the same time, lined up to be read. There is so much good poetry out there; it’s hard to get the time to read them all. Current favourites are May Day 1974 by Rachel Hegarty, Fleche by Mary Jean Chan, To Air the Soul, Throw All the Windows Wide by Mary Dorcey, Sex and Death at Merlin Park Hospital by Kevin Higgins and Bad News, Good News, Bad News by Edward O’Dwyer. If I was to pick one out of these that has had the most impact it would be May Day 1974 by Irish writer, Rachel Hegarty. It remembers the victims of car bombings that took place in Dublin and Monaghan in 1974. Her poems give voices to the 34 people who died. Devotions by Mary Oliver, has taken up permanent residence in my bedroom. It’s my go to book when I’m in need of some spiritual inspiration and renewal.

Natasha Sanders-Kay : part one

Natasha Sanders-Kay is a writer, editor and activist residing on unceded Coast Salish territories in Burnaby, BC. Recent work has appeared in Poetry Is Dead, subTerrain, PRISM international, and Spacing. Her chapbook poem Postmodern Mutt is part of a travelling migration project from Vancouver-based artist Lois Klassen; see ReadingtheMigrationLibrary.com. Natasha is a graduate of The Writer’s Studio at SFU, where she was mentored by Betsy Warland. She is a member of subTerrain magazine’s editorial collective and team of reviewers, and previously served as managing editor. Over the years Natasha has worked, organized and volunteered with numerous arts and social justice initiatives. She is working on her first collection of poems.

Photo credit: Trista Baldwin

What do you feel poetry can accomplish that other forms can’t?

Poetry can create a container of words to hold an experience or emotion, and can do it in a way that offers the reader enough to go on, but with mystery as a major element, plenty for them to unpack and interpret in their own terms. You know how as writers we’re told show, don’t tell? I believe poetry is the ultimate form of showing.

It’s also language at its finest. Every word, space and line break can be loaded with meaning, full of craft and care. Poetry engages with language in its own magic way.

Because poems are usually shorter than other forms such as fiction, nonfiction, drama and the like, they can be more accessible to people reading on the fly, yet their power can stay with you, whirling within you, forever.

Lauren Carter : part five

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

I return often to Mary Oliver because of her ability to weave together all aspects of the human experience with the material qualities and landscapes of the natural world without sentimentality, cliche, or staleness. Also Sylvia Plath for the courage of her bold, unflinching work and her searing imagery. I also read a lot of fiction and turn to T. C. Boyle, Joyce Carol Oates, James Baldwin, Alice Munro, Louise Erdrich.