Why poetry?

Taking my stroll today, I found myself thinking about poems–not my own, but other people’s–and about poetry in general. Some questions came to mind: Why don’t I get tired of poetry? Why, after all these years, do I continue to read it, to write it, to think about it, to read what other people say about it, to talk of it with willing friends?

I find I will get tired of hearing (or reading) even excellent interviews, articles, and podcasts about politics or movies or social commentary or numerous other things that interest me. And while it’s true I’m sometimes not in the mood, or haven’t the energy, to listen to poetry readings, I’d say that in general–aside from my physical fatigue–a good poetry reading in-person or virtual, and any poetry discussion, does interest me. Why is that? When so few people find poetry fascinating.

But then, I don’t get tired of going to art museums and art galleries, either (and I’m not an artist).

One poetry-related space I’ve been enjoying is going on a poetry hike with Grant Clauser via YouTube. Also, thanks to Dave Bonta‘s compendium of poetry-related blogs, I’m intrigued as Brian Turner shares with his readers the process he takes to make and revise poems. The way he composes turns out to be not un-similar to my own way of writing poetry, starting with hand-written notes and crossings-out and arrows and re-writings, though I don’t use a notebook much these days. Some of us remain old school! But I also find myself engrossed by seeing the methods other writers use–younger poets, or people with disabilities that keep them from the handwritten draft–to start and the develop their poems. One of my former students uses voice-to-text and simple recordings/playbacks to write, for example. I’d find that awkward, but for her it enables marvels for expression.

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This week, I’ve paused on my artist book while I wait for some paper that I ordered to show up at the art store. Next, I have decided that I need to start practicing paper-cutting. I used to be a fairly deft hand with an exacto knife, but that was 45 years ago, and I’m not as steady-handed as I once was. Once I have some samples cut to size, I might be ready to experiment with a digital printer.

One thing at a time.

Meanwhile, the October we’ve had in our region this year has been extraordinarily mild, sunny, and dry. So I have been able to work on yard/garden/outdoor home maintenance projects and the indoor work of book-making can wait a bit longer. Right?

P. S. I do not have an answer for this question. Maybe you do? Why poetry?

Heading into November…

Interview & discussion

This TV interview was interesting to participate in, and I loved chatting with Marilyn Klimcho! She put me at ease, which is hard to do in front of cameras. I have watched the whole 20 minutes without hating myself or feeling too embarrassed. (Hooray?)

Is the show entertaining? Well…you have to be interested in poetry and poets, I suppose. Feel free to check it out. The link above should take you to the YouTube video.

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National Poetry Month does, it turns out, raise the public’s awareness of poetry at least a little. Recently, I was invited to be a guest at a weekly online discussion of poetry and spirituality. The participants had been reading and discussing my poem “Deity’s Diary” and asked me whether I’d be available to read the poem and then discuss it with the group members at one of their meetings. They even sent me recordings of previous meetings’ discussions. I find it fascinating to learn how readers interpret my poems, what they get out of the work; so of course I obliged.

The group members asked intriguing, intelligent questions–clearly, they are accustomed to talking about poetry. That was refreshing, and it kept me on my toes. I learned that my poem (which is in four parts, so maybe it is poems) is doing the work I hoped it would do, at least with this group of careful and reflective readers. “Deity’s Diary” is intentionally paradoxical and questions many of western culture’s received ideas about god. It’s also pretty presumptuous, since I chose to write it in the persona of a deity…but, like all poems, it is decidedly a work of the imagination. (No, I do not consider myself a god!)

The discussion ranged from philosophical, scientific, and theological concerns to the nuts and bolts of writing and revising a poem, where I get my ideas, what the major influences on my work have been, and lots of other topics. Seldom do we lesser-known writers get to hear back from readers, especially in such detail–so this event felt like a real treat to me.

One participant said that reading these poems was like walking through an unfamiliar forest, not on a straight path, with possibilities of obstacles and turns in the track and the surprise of wildflowers, mosses, or lovely birds along the way.

That made my day.

Restorative

I often start a post with a mini-weather report; I guess that’s one way I prepare myself to write, centering myself in the environment I inhabit. Our region received much-needed rain this weekend, but I was out of town–and the weather in Chicago was glorious: cloudless, crisp, mild, a light breeze. Odd, though, how weather conditions can evoke strong memories for me. The amazing clarity of the sky and air reminded me vividly of September 11, 2001, and the two days following it when we had a run of glorious weather and a mood of intense disturbance all around us…and no plane traffic at all. It took a few moments for that recall to settle in, and a few minutes more to let the memory go so I could enjoy the present moment.

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I was in the Chicago area–Highland Park– for the book launch of The Red Queen Hypothesis. Many thanks to my publisher, Julie Dotson, and the welcoming and supportive group of poets and audience; the reading went well, and we sold some books (always a satisfying thing). I met quite a few interesting people and learned a bit about the city of Highland Park, its relatively long history, its parks, architecture, the storied Ravinia Festival, and how the city’s been coping since the July 4 tragedy last year. Travel always offers perspective. In this case, travel offered community as well: a lively community of people who support the literary arts.

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I even got to be recorded, with Jennifer Dotson as the interviewer–a first for me. Here’s the link:

My generous poet-host, Julie Isaacson, knew from my writing and my biography that I would enjoy a walk around the Chicago Botanic Gardens–and she was so right! The gardens offered just the respite I needed after airplane travel. We hadn’t the time to stroll all 280+ acres, but the chance to walk amid trees and beside water in the middle of an urban expanse was genuinely restorative.

Now I am pulling weeds and pruning for the approaching autumn, activities that allow me to settle into myself internally and which sometimes result in poem drafts. Please wish me luck on both endeavors!