What other poetry books have you been reading lately?
I’ve been reading plenty of chapbooks, thanks to rob mclennan’s above/ground press to which I absolutely recommend getting a subscription (the 2020 season is just beginning). I recently read Adam Sol’s “How a Poem Moves,” a collection of essays. Favourite collections this year: Trauma Head by Elle Kraljii Gardiner, Charm by Christine McNair.
Tuesday, 29 October 2019
Monday, 28 October 2019
Julia Bloch : part four
When you require renewal, is there a particular poem or book that you return to? A particular author?
Bernadette Mayer’s “The Way to Keep Going in Antarctica” is a pretty big touchstone for me. I love the looseness of the lines, the way the lines break kind of haltingly, raggedly. I love the research-informed creative practice—Bernadette is thinking about what the Antarctic explorers went through and, in a way, questioning their story—and the links between past and present. I love how each line, each sentence unit, is like a little essay in itself, turning inside an argument, all accumulating like snow.
Bernadette Mayer’s “The Way to Keep Going in Antarctica” is a pretty big touchstone for me. I love the looseness of the lines, the way the lines break kind of haltingly, raggedly. I love the research-informed creative practice—Bernadette is thinking about what the Antarctic explorers went through and, in a way, questioning their story—and the links between past and present. I love how each line, each sentence unit, is like a little essay in itself, turning inside an argument, all accumulating like snow.
M.W. Jaeggle : part two
Has your consideration of poetry changed since you began?
Yes, very much so. When I first started writing, I wanted to write poetry that startled people out emotional torpor, what I thought was the result of the best writing to come out of the Beat Generation. My writing wasn’t any good by any measure, mainly because I understood a desire to shock as giving me license to write about whatever so long as the writing was in a shrill tone. Eventually, I grew into a person who realized that this was all ego, the result of grossly undervaluing the emotional intelligence of others while overestimating my powers of observation. I like to think I have put a lot of distance between the poet I was and the poet I am today.
Yes, very much so. When I first started writing, I wanted to write poetry that startled people out emotional torpor, what I thought was the result of the best writing to come out of the Beat Generation. My writing wasn’t any good by any measure, mainly because I understood a desire to shock as giving me license to write about whatever so long as the writing was in a shrill tone. Eventually, I grew into a person who realized that this was all ego, the result of grossly undervaluing the emotional intelligence of others while overestimating my powers of observation. I like to think I have put a lot of distance between the poet I was and the poet I am today.
Sunday, 27 October 2019
Albert Dumont : part three
When you require renewal, is there a particular poem or book that you return to? A particular author?
Renewal of my creative energy for me, is found in any forest in Algonquin territory. I find answers to all of life’s questions near the trees and in the music of the birds, leaves and rain. In the forest, I am inspired and motivated.
Renewal of my creative energy for me, is found in any forest in Algonquin territory. I find answers to all of life’s questions near the trees and in the music of the birds, leaves and rain. In the forest, I am inspired and motivated.
Saturday, 26 October 2019
Syd Lazarus : part three
What do you find most difficult about writing poetry?
WIth the release of my most recent chapbook--How to Lose Friends Without Really Trying (2019) with Frog Hollow Press, I’ve realized that I struggle with keeping what I believe is a consistent voice. I enjoy so many styles of poetry and often want to explore all of them, however this doesn't always make for a linear read for more longform collections. Due to the fact that I didn’t start writing poetry seriously up until a year or so ago, I feel my work’s voice is still very inconsistent--however, this may be more of a concern than a truth.
WIth the release of my most recent chapbook--How to Lose Friends Without Really Trying (2019) with Frog Hollow Press, I’ve realized that I struggle with keeping what I believe is a consistent voice. I enjoy so many styles of poetry and often want to explore all of them, however this doesn't always make for a linear read for more longform collections. Due to the fact that I didn’t start writing poetry seriously up until a year or so ago, I feel my work’s voice is still very inconsistent--however, this may be more of a concern than a truth.
Friday, 25 October 2019
Natalie Lim : part two
How do you know when a poem is finished?
I don’t really know how to explain it—by instinct, I guess, as lame as that sounds. Sometimes I’ll sit back and look at a poem and just get this feeling that it’s done; other times I’ll realize that I need to stop working on a particular piece and come back to it later.
I don’t really know how to explain it—by instinct, I guess, as lame as that sounds. Sometimes I’ll sit back and look at a poem and just get this feeling that it’s done; other times I’ll realize that I need to stop working on a particular piece and come back to it later.
Thursday, 24 October 2019
Michael Ruby : part three
How important is music to your writing?
Very important now, though not initially. In the 1980s, modern art had the most influence on my poetry. But in the 1990s, I started listening a lot to postwar classical composers such as Iannis Xenakis and Morton Feldman and Sofia Gubaidulina and Philip Glass while I was revising, and that probably contributed to the increasing abstraction in my poetry. I started listening to the blues then, too, and other 20th century American vocal music. By 1999, I was enjoying the vocal music so much that I wanted to work poetically with lyrics, taking a Free Jazz approach to them. That year, I began my book American Songbook (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2013), based on recordings of 75 songs from the 1920s until 1999. For more than a decade, I was constantly listening to singers I liked in many genres, always on the lookout for a song I wanted to work with poetically. And when I was composing the poems, I might play a phrase over and over until I was happy with the words it displaced within me. I think I made at least one significant observation: Nonverbal sounds such as ooh and ah, woo and hoo, grunts and exclamations directly engage the listener’s “unconscious.” The most popular song ever, “Billie Jean,” has the most nonverbal sounds of any song I’ve ever heard.
When I finished the book in 2013, I was well aware there were countless great singers and songs I hadn’t used, didn’t even know. This knowledge has bothered me through the years. It’s probably a foolish thing to do, and I might never get around to it, but here are some singers and songs I would likely use if I wrote more of these poems: Lonnie Johnson’s “Blues Is Only a Ghost,” Big Bill Broonzy’s “C.C. Rider” and “Black, Brown and White,” T-Bone Walker’s “T-Bone Shuffle,” Jimmy Reed’s “Bright Lights, Big City,” Tampa Red’s “Let Me Play With Your Poodle,” Blind Willie McTell’s “I Got to Cross the River Jordan,” Memphis Slim’s “Life Is Like That,” The Platters’ “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” Fenton Robinson’s “You Don’t Know What Love Is,” Patsy Cline’s “South of the Border,” Skeeter Davis’s “The End of the World,” Buck Owens’s “Love’s Gonna Live Here,” Gene Chandler’s “You Don’t Love Me No More,” The Staple Singers’ “If I Could Hear My Mother Pray,” Bessie Griffin’s “Too Close to Heaven,” Martha Reeves’s “Love Makes Me Do These Things,” Ronnie Spector’s “Be My Baby,” Brenda Holloway’s “I’ll Always Love You,” Teddy Pendergast’s “You Can’t Hide From Yourself,” Albert King’s “Born Under a Bad Sign,” Johnny Lee’s “Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places.” And I have to do something by Jimmy Rushing, Big Joe Turner, Albert Collins, Willie Nelson….
Very important now, though not initially. In the 1980s, modern art had the most influence on my poetry. But in the 1990s, I started listening a lot to postwar classical composers such as Iannis Xenakis and Morton Feldman and Sofia Gubaidulina and Philip Glass while I was revising, and that probably contributed to the increasing abstraction in my poetry. I started listening to the blues then, too, and other 20th century American vocal music. By 1999, I was enjoying the vocal music so much that I wanted to work poetically with lyrics, taking a Free Jazz approach to them. That year, I began my book American Songbook (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2013), based on recordings of 75 songs from the 1920s until 1999. For more than a decade, I was constantly listening to singers I liked in many genres, always on the lookout for a song I wanted to work with poetically. And when I was composing the poems, I might play a phrase over and over until I was happy with the words it displaced within me. I think I made at least one significant observation: Nonverbal sounds such as ooh and ah, woo and hoo, grunts and exclamations directly engage the listener’s “unconscious.” The most popular song ever, “Billie Jean,” has the most nonverbal sounds of any song I’ve ever heard.
When I finished the book in 2013, I was well aware there were countless great singers and songs I hadn’t used, didn’t even know. This knowledge has bothered me through the years. It’s probably a foolish thing to do, and I might never get around to it, but here are some singers and songs I would likely use if I wrote more of these poems: Lonnie Johnson’s “Blues Is Only a Ghost,” Big Bill Broonzy’s “C.C. Rider” and “Black, Brown and White,” T-Bone Walker’s “T-Bone Shuffle,” Jimmy Reed’s “Bright Lights, Big City,” Tampa Red’s “Let Me Play With Your Poodle,” Blind Willie McTell’s “I Got to Cross the River Jordan,” Memphis Slim’s “Life Is Like That,” The Platters’ “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” Fenton Robinson’s “You Don’t Know What Love Is,” Patsy Cline’s “South of the Border,” Skeeter Davis’s “The End of the World,” Buck Owens’s “Love’s Gonna Live Here,” Gene Chandler’s “You Don’t Love Me No More,” The Staple Singers’ “If I Could Hear My Mother Pray,” Bessie Griffin’s “Too Close to Heaven,” Martha Reeves’s “Love Makes Me Do These Things,” Ronnie Spector’s “Be My Baby,” Brenda Holloway’s “I’ll Always Love You,” Teddy Pendergast’s “You Can’t Hide From Yourself,” Albert King’s “Born Under a Bad Sign,” Johnny Lee’s “Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places.” And I have to do something by Jimmy Rushing, Big Joe Turner, Albert Collins, Willie Nelson….
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