— a poetry interview series by Christine Klocek-Lim

— a poetry interview series by Christine Klocek-Lim

Stephen Bunch

1. What is your favorite poem that you’ve written? Read?

Currently it’s “Second Life,” a long poem soon to appear in Mudlark.

Too many to name, but here are a few: Merwin, “For the Anniversary of My Death”; H.D., “Oread”; Dorn, “The North Atlantic Turbine: A Theory of Truth”; Pound, “Canto 47.”

2. Do you think there is a disconnect between academic poets/poetry and online poets/poetry?

Perhaps I don’t know enough about this supposed distinction, but it seems to me a false dichotomy. Beyond that, I’m not sure I know what is meant by “academic poets/poetry.” Is this poetry written by people who are employed in the academy or poetry that is informed by the arts and sciences? I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to answer the question without defining the terms, and because definitions and naming have more to do with marketing than with writing, I’m not particularly interested.

3. Has the rise of the poetry MFA been positive or detrimental to the art?

The short answer is “I don’t know.” Having said that, I think that poetry has become more of a commodity with the proliferation of MFA programs. That is, poetry itself isn’t a big seller in the marketplace, but there is a whole academic industry involved in credentialing people to write (and then teach the writing of) poetry. I like the Black Mountain model. Poets went there not to workshop or gain credentials to teach creative writing, but rather to immerse themselves in history, classical studies, the arts and sciences, while also learning to repair roofs and tend vegetable gardens. And it didn’t hurt that they were in the interdisciplinary presence of great minds (Charles Olson, Buckminster Fuller, Merce Cunningham, et al.). In other words, the writing of poetry was presumed to come from an interdisciplinary education and “real life” experience rather than from some sort of specialized training. The poetry workshop seems to have its origins in the MFA program, too. The older I get, the more I’m convinced that workshopping is counterproductive, that writing is generally a solitary task.

4. Do you write for yourself or for an audience/reader?

This question implies telos or intention in writing. Rarely do I write with an end in mind other than to see what happens. It’s not unlike breathing. I don’t think much about it, just do it (which is not to say that I’m not thinking as I do it—writing is always thinking). Once the writing is “done,” maybe I’ve learned something or solved a problem, but that wasn’t the intention. If the product seems worthwhile to me, I put it out there to see if there is an audience. Sometimes there is, and that’s a bonus.

5. How much of what you write is inspiration vs. perspiration?

Without inspiration and expiration there can be no perspiration. Beyond that, I don’t know.

6. Bonus question! Answer any one of the following:

a. If you were a Celtic bard, carrying poems from place to place as if they were the last flame, which ones would you sing?

That’s a rather romantic notion of poetry. I would not have been that circuit-riding bard.

b. Why do you read or write poetry?

Writing poetry is like scratching an itch. That is, it’s a response to stimuli. It’s my way of trying to make sense of all the “inputs,” a way to filter and focus, a way of bringing at least the illusion of order to my world. Kant wrote that art is purposive without purpose. Heidegger wrote that art is the act of making a world out of earth. Ed Sanders celebrates homo ludens. I subscribe to all of these.

c. What did you have for breakfast this morning?

Leftover chicken breast stuffed with goat cheese and spinach.

d. Anything else you’d like to say?

“Noli in spiritu combuere.”

Bio:

Stephen Bunch lives and writes in Lawrence, Kansas, where he received the 2008 Langston Hughes Award for Poetry from the Lawrence Arts Center and Raven Books. He received a Pushcart Prize nomination in 2010. His poems can be found in Autumn Sky Poetry, The Externalist, The Literary Bohemian, Fickle Muses, and Umbrella. From 1978 to 1988, he edited and published Tellus, a little magazine that featured work by Victor Contoski, Edward Dorn, Jane Hirshfield, Donald Levering, Denise Low, Paul Metcalf, Edward Sanders, and many others. After a fifteen-year hibernation, he awoke in 2005 and resumed writing. Preparing to Leave is his first gathering of poems.

— a poetry interview series by Christine Klocek-Lim

Lizzy Swane

1. What is your favorite poem that you’ve written? Read?

My favorite poem I’ve ever read is about social justice. Social Justice is at the core of what is popular in poetry today. “For Strong Women” by Marge Piercy tops the list of favorite poems I’ve ever read or heard.

The favorite poem of mine tends to be the one I am currently working on. I enter a mind set while writing and revising that leaves me once I’ve decided a poem is finished and my attention to it wanes. Months after writing a poem, I can not remember the justification for each and every word or image but I trust that I put it there for a purpose. My current poem is “A Pause Before the Cicadae Siren” and I obsess over it like I do every poem

2. Do you think there is a disconnect between academic poets/poetry and online poets/poetry?

There is a huge disconnect in poetry today between the traditional academic and the modern rise of Slam Poetry. The online community hosts a mixture of both styles so there seems to be no disconnect there.

3. Has the rise of the poetry MFA been positive or detrimental to the art?

A degree opens the door to the academic world. Without one, access to traditional academic publishers is nearly impossible. I have read poems by people with advanced degrees that weren’t as good as many I’ve read by non-degree holders. A degree is therefore no guarantee of quality. What makes a quality poet/poem is the author’s willingness to receive critique from others and to apply critique to their knowledge base for the poems they are working on and will write.

4. Do you write for yourself or for an audience/reader?

I write for them poem. I want the poem to have its voice and strive to make every word count for the poem’s sake.

5. How much of what you write is inspiration vs. perspiration?

Most of what I write is initially inspiration. Once the inspiration kicks in, the perspiration soon follows. There are usually a number of things that come together to click in my brain. Most often it is the relationship between at least three ideas that come together to be expressed in the poem’s inspiration phase. Without the perspiration of editing and weighing the value of every word, a poem will not blossom into all that it can be.

6. Bonus question! Answer any one of the following:

a. Do you ever include the works of others in your readings? If not, why not? If so, who and why?

Depends on the occasion. When I was new to poetry I was so excited to showcase my own work that I didn’t include the works of others. For Women’s History Month, I included the aforementioned poem by Marge Piercy.

b. Why do you read or write poetry?

I write and read poetry because poems are a gift that come straight from the core essence of a person. Without poetry we are not much different than any other animal on the planet. Poetry is something everyone can do and do well if they are committed to exposing their work to others. It’s a direct route to what is spiritual. Poetry is a kind of prayer.

c. Has what you write changed (or not changed) over time?

Polishing poems has become easier the longer I write. Sometimes I edit while I write. I often use online sources to look up words or ideas or people or other literary works. On my most most recent poem I had five browser windows open to different sites, fact checking what I put to paper to make sure I am saying what I mean to say. If an additional inspiration for a poem hits me during the perspiration phase, I always stop and look it up before including a new idea.

d. Anything else you’d like to say?

Poetry should be a formal class in every school and every grade across the nation. We’d have a lot less crime in our country if we did.

Bio:

Lizzy Swane chooses to remain silent; exercising her write to atone, a turn or attenuation here or

there, whether or not she can afford one, one night, one night’s stand, oneness or otherness.

Anything said or heard, touched or felt, smelled or tasted, seen or envisioned may be used as

evidence for a poem.

Should she choose to give up her write in exchange for one time publishing rights, she shall remain

‘owner sans onerous’ of all trials and travails endured by readers and jarred or juried peers.

Any questions about these writes may be rightly addressed to lizzyswane@gmail.com

— a poetry interview series by Christine Klocek-Lim

— a poetry interview series by Christine Klocek-Lim

Catherine Rogers

1. What is your favorite poem that you’ve written? Read?

Of my own work, my current favorite is a poem called “Crone.” It’s not necessarily my best, technically speaking, but it represents a rich time of life, and I go back to it when I find myself worried about growing older.  It’s musical, and it also uses nature imagery to good effect.  I like that in a poem.  As for poems I’ve read, asking me to name a favorite is like asking me who’s my favorite friend; I love them all for different reasons.  When I want a good sensual, optimistic wallow, I go back to my old friend Walt Whitman and “Song of Myself.”  There’s an expansive glee in it that I still find irresistible, even after many years. In a more contemporary or contemplative mood, Elizabeth Bishop’s “At the Fish Houses.”  I love the perfect balance between solemnity and humor, the beautiful sonics, and especially the Baptist seal—“like me, a believer in total immersion.”

2. Do you think there is a disconnect between academic poets/poetry and online poets/poetry?

Not so much between academic and online as between academic and popular poetry.  The common wisdom is that there’s no audience for poetry any more, except other poets, but in fact there’s a huge audience for hip-hop/rap/spoken word poetry.  Academics may look down their noses at the form, but I find a great deal of energy and freshness in it. Of course, there’s mediocrity in every genre, not to mention downright junk. But informality and accessibility are not necessarily bad things in art. And a good beat doesn’t hurt.

3. Has the rise of the poetry MFA been positive or detrimental to the art?

I think the MFA has raised the bar in terms of craftsmanship.  There’s more technical sophistication out there, and more well-trained, competent, nice young poets are producing nice, competent, well-trained verse.  The challenge remains what it always was—finding something significant, or at least useful, to say.

4. Do you write for yourself or for an audience/reader?

Yes. For as long as I can remember, which is quite a long time, I’ve written with an imaginary editor looking over my shoulder.  I’m constantly aware of how a reader might react to my writing. On the other hand, I’m my own toughest critic. If I’m willing to turn my writing loose in public, it will probably find an appreciative audience.

5. How much of what you write is inspiration vs. perspiration?

If “how much” is a quantitative question, I have no idea.  If it’s a matter of motivation, well. . . . I do wish I could be more disciplined and craftsmanlike about my writing—dedicated daily writing time, that sort of thing.  But the truth is, I can go weeks, months, even years without writing anything, and then suddenly a poem will attack me and I can’t rest until I’ve wrestled it to the ground and got it on paper.  Once I have that core idea, I can spend more weeks, months and even years whittling, polishing and refining the thing till it’s a shadow of its former self.  It’s a very inefficient process, and probably explains why I haven’t yet produced so much as a chapbook.



6. Why do you read or write poetry?

I don’t remember a time in my life without poetry. My mother loved poetry and used to read it to me at bedtime; I was hearing “The Highwayman” when other kids were hearing “Good Night, Moon.”  So I had rhyme and rhythm in my head almost as soon as I could talk. I knew my mother loved poetry, so I would make up little jingles and recite them to her—verses only a mother could love—and she would write them down.  I was given collections of poems for birthdays and Christmas—good stuff, too: Dickinson and Whitman and Sandburg and Frost.  In such company, how could one not write poems?  I progressed from little jingles through the usual teen angst; then, in my twenties, I read that only poets read poetry, and I decided I would be that audience who read but didn’t write. It was such a relief. But poems kept ambushing me from behind the shrubbery and other dark places, and eventually I gave in and started to write again. But as I was saying before autobiography intervened, I write poetry because my mother loved poetry.  She might be responsible for a certain streak of old-fashioned sentimentality in my verse, but what can I say?  She gave me the gift, and I try to return it.

Bio:

Catherine Rogers holds degrees in English from Middlebury College and The University of Georgia, and a Master of Divinity degree from Boston College School of Theology and Ministry.  Her poems have appeared in Kalliope: A Journal of Women’s Literature and Art and in Touch: The Journal of Healing, and online in Autumn Sky Poetry.  In 2010, her poem “Dirt” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She is an Associate Professor of English at Savannah State University, the oldest historically Black university in Georgia.

— a poetry interview series by Christine Klocek-Lim

David W. Landrum
(editor of Lucid Rhythms)

1. What is your favorite poem that you’ve written? Read?

Probably my favorite poem I’ve written is one called, “Gary, 1961,” written early in my career as a poet. It’s about a childhood experience and won a prize. The judge, Thomas Lux, said in his comments that it was “angry and elegiac.” I did not think it was angry but I see now that indeed it was.

To read, I like one called “Relic,” which is clear, has short lines, and a volta at the end.

2. Do you think there is a disconnect between academic poets/poetry and online poets/poetry?

I don’t see much of a disconnect at all. Online poetry is often academic and, as far as I can tell, there is not much difference between what online and “academic” poets write. I dispute the idea that one can be “academic.” I write poems that are based on literature but also purely lyrical poems that have no literary references in them, as I think most poets do.

3. Has the rise of the poetry MFA been positive or detrimental to the art?

Well, as an academe I tend to like degree programs, but I think the MFA industry has hurt poetry to an extent. It has created a network, an old-boys-old-girls club that publish each other’s poems and books and control what kind of poems are published, which is not good. When it began, MFA was good, but I think it has gotten too big and has too much monopoly power over the current poetic scene.

4. Do you write for yourself or for an audience/reader?

I usually don’t have an audience immediately in mind when I write, but as I write an edit a poem, I think of the audience of other poets and how a good poem sounds by current standards. But at first I write for me, to get the expression right, to make sure I say what I want to say and say it well and powerfully.

5. How much of what you write is inspiration vs. perspiration?

There has to be inspiration–by which I mean an idea that enters the mind. It can enter from various sources. I often get ideas when I am reading poetry—though, oddly, most often the idea has nothing to do with the content of the poem I am reading. Sometimes, as with “Gary, 1961,” it is simply something I’ve thought about a lot and it finally congeals into poetry. More rarely, things just float into my head. I think these arise from the language of our memory and something pulls it out. This is “inspiration.”

6. Why do you read or write poetry?

 I write poetry because I need to express myself. I remember how, as a kid, a teenager, and a young adult, poetry always spoke to me and identified feelings–resonated with my emotions. There were things I wanted to say, and I saw poetry was the best way to say them, the best way to express emotion and thought and conviction, so I began to write poetry. Having read a lot of poetry, I knew a little of the language, technique, and sound of it, so I began. It has been a long learning process.

Bonus question—anything else you’d like to say?

I love poetry and I love to write. I began as a formalist, but now my poems are about 50/50 formalism and free verse. Both are good media to convey emotions and strongly remembered experiences; or to write humor or more philosophical poems. The language of poetry is vast and I try to be inclusive in my style and techniques.

Bio:

David W. Landrum teaches Literature at Grand Valley State University in Allendale, Michigan. His poetry, fiction, and literary criticism have appeared widely. He edits the online poetry journal, Lucid Rhythms, http://www.lucidrhythms.com.  His recent book of poems is The Impossibility of Epithalamia.

Darla C. R. d’Aubigné

1. What is your favorite poem that you’ve written? Read?

My favorite poem that I have written is one that I wrote during my senior year of high school. It’s called My Sleeping Maiden. It’s not written in contemporary English, which I find to be meaningful to the context of the poem. I enjoy this particular poem, because not only is it a poem but also a story with multiple layers and morals. The few people who have read this yet-to-be-published poem have interpreted it in different ways, which is one of my goals when writing poetry.

Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky is a poem that I always will find to be entertaining to read as well as perform. It is written in such a way that it is appreciated by all ages; all you need is imagination. It is a poem that I believe keeps us young at heart.

2. Has the rise of the poetry MFA been positive or detrimental to the art?

I have recently become leery of academic programs in the creative writing discipline, to the extent that I have dropped my ambitions to earn a  degree in creative writing entirely. It has occurred to me that creative writing, unlike academic writing, cannot be taught, and I’ve become deeply skeptical of those who say it can be.

It is an art, as the question itself suggests, not a science. An academically certified writer is not guaranteed to be the next Stephen King or J.K. Rowling. So the question becomes this: why do these programs exist in the first place? These programs exist because writers who write McPoems and McStories need jobs to make ends meet. Who teaches writers to write generic pieces using formulas and theories? The programs do. Subsequently, many of the students of these programs then become educators in writing programs themselves, creating even more future educators of writing who will most likely not be published outside small presses. In short, do I think the poetry MFAs to be detrimental to the art? Yes, I do, and that applies to fiction writers just as much it applies to the writers of poetry.
      

3. Do you write for yourself or for an audience/reader?

Both, I think. When it comes to poetry, I write them to express myself to others when I cannot either find the right words or can’t find the appropriate time and place to express myself. I best write poetry when I am at a fever pitch.

4. How much of what you write is inspiration vs. perspiration?

It really depends whether I write poetry or fiction, both of which are equally important to me. Poetry is all inspiration for me. Fiction, however, is different. It takes inspiration to start a short story or novel, but it takes perspiration to finish it.

5. Why do you read or write poetry?

I read and write poetry for the very reason why art and beauty exist at all: to enjoy it. It is a huge part of my life that I cannot live without.

6. How has the way you write changed (or not changed) over time?

I have always depended on a computer to write. I cannot write in a notebook. I am too accustomed to going back to rewrite and revise entire sections during my writing process. That is impossible to do with ink and quill. That much has not changed.

Early in my writing career, I had everything on one computer – schoolwork, creative writing documents, research, games, etc. I realized that I was easily distracted and extremely disorganized. I now own a separate laptop for just my writing and related research, which keeps me focused.

College life has also affected how I write. I am less inspired to write in my apartment, because my academic work and creative writing shares the same environment and atmosphere. I prefer to write in quiet public places. My favorite place to write currently is a study lounge with dim lighting, posh Victorian decor, and a free, self-serve coffee and tea bar that a fellow writer friend showed me.

Bio:

Darla C. R. d’Aubigné, published under multiple pseudonyms for poetry and short stories, is a Singaporean-American who is currently pursuing a degree in psychology. A self-proclaimed Slytherin, she spends most of her free time with writing groups as a moderator and writing in uncrowded coffee shops. After spending years writing poetry and short stories, she is currently writing her first novel. Her written pieces explore the depths of the human psyche and criticize the evils of society.  

— a poetry interview series by Christine Klocek-Lim

1. What is your favorite poem that you’ve written? Read?

Argh. I always flunk this one.

2. Has the rise of the poetry MFA been positive or detrimental to the art?

I think it’s fine, as long as students go into it with their eyes open. The MFA is an artistic degree, not a professional degree—it won’t give a job. It will give you a couple of years to write in a supportive community where you can focus on writing in an intense way. It might very well make you a better writer. That’s a good thing.

3. Do you write for yourself or for an audience/reader?

I write the first drafts for myself. I revise for an audience/reader.

4. How much of what you write is inspiration vs. perspiration?

I’m a big sweater. Not the kind you wear. I believe writing is hard work, and if you sit around waiting for the Muse to tap you on the shoulder, your hair is going to get dusty.

5. Bonus question! Answer any one of the following:

a. Do you ever include the works of others in your readings? If not, why not? If so, who and why?

No, I don’t. While I understand the gesture, I’m not a performer. I have a hard enough time reading my own work much less doing justice to someone else’s words.

b. Why do you read or write poetry?

It puts me in touch with a part of myself that pays close attention to what’s going on beneath the surface of life and what touches the heart in a lasting way.

c. How has the way you write changed (or not changed) over time?

I spend more time revising now than I ever did. I don’t know what this means. Am I getting better? Worse? I used to be a night writer, but since I became a parent eighteen years ago, I switched to becoming a morning writer.

d. What did you have for breakfast this morning?

Oatmeal and grapefruit and coffee. The breakfast of middle-aged poets.

Bio:

Jim Ray Daniels wrote and produced the film Mr. Pleasant. He wrote the screenplays for two previous films, Dumpster and “No Pets.” In addition, he is the author of three books of short fiction, including, most recently, Mr. Pleasant, Michigan State University Press, 2007, Best Regional Fiction Gold Medal, Independent Publisher Book Awards.

He has also published thirteen collections of poetry, including Trigger Man: More Tales of the Motor City,  From Milltown to Malltown, a collaborative book with photographer Charlee Brodsky and writer Jane McCafferty, 2010, and Having a Little Talk with Capital P Poetry, 2011. His poems have been featured on Garrison Keillor’s “Writer’s Almanac,” in Billy Collins’ Poetry 180 anthologies, and Ted Kooser’s “American Life in Poetry” series.

His poem “Factory Love” is displayed on the roof of a race car. Other recognition includes the Brittingham Prize for Poetry, the Tillie Olsen Prize, the Blue Lynx Poetry Prize, two fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, and two from the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts. He is the Thomas Stockman Baker Professor of English at Carnegie Mellon University.