What advice would you give a person just starting to write poetry?
Try and write everything down that you "think" and that you "feel" on some
kind of regular basis. I don't care if you keep a journal, compose on the
computer, or scratch thoughts down on restaurant napkin - write it down.
It's not an easy thing to do, but you have to make time for it. To me,
these are the seeds of benign honesty with oneself - the seeds of poetry,
the seeds of writing, the seeds of art, whether it is haiku or prose,
non-fiction or fiction.
Write it down, and then stir it like a bubbling witches' brew.
And read. Read books, poetry, short stories, plays, essays, dissertations,
newspaper articles, magazine articles, advertisements, cereal boxes,
graffiti - just read. Listen to music, too. I'm an avid music fan, of all
kinds of music, and I'm telling you that there have been, and still are,
many poetic lyricists in music. Okay, you can watch a little TV, and you
can watch movies if you want, but the book is always better than the film.
Always.
Now, back to writing...tend to your witches' brew and sneak a taste. Start
expanding on what you've "thought" and what you've "felt" and see what
happens. Sprinkle of little of this and a dash of that - don't think about
where you're going - you'll find out soon enough. However, most likely
you'll find at first you're sounding awfully like the favorite things and
authors you've been reading. (Oh, how many times I heard that from my
English Professors.)
And that's okay.
Read what you've written out loud. For that matter, read what you've read
out loud. You'll find that there's a musicality to poetry (and prose) that
you can "hear." Imagine playing the piano, and it's sounding sweet, and
then you hit a dead key - thud. Ugh. Keep reading it out loud until it
sings, and not just to yourself, mind you - let someone else taste your brew
and help you with the seasoning. (You'll have to pardon my mixed metaphors.
It's an issue I'm working through in therapy.)
Simply put, your "voice" will come in time. It always does. Another thing
I remember hearing quite a bit from my English Professors was that "there is
no such thing as 'true originality.' Every story has been told - there's
only 'originality in style.'"
Poetry is painting "felt thought through moments," even prose poetry, more
so than prose itself. You're trying to convey moments through imagery and
feeling, in a very small space - hyper-reality in a sometimes fluid surreal
or a sometimes randomly constricted form. I think this is why poetry has
made a comeback in the past 20 plus years...exponentially. We live in "very
small spaces" - sound bytes - slivers of life that may or may not be in
objective context, but then again, I don't believe in true objectivity. I
don't think it exists in our consciousness or unconsciousness, only the
concept exists. Our experiences are subjective interpretations of
actuality.
So, it's all about "felt thought through moments" for me - like Robert Frost
said "an ice cube melting zigzag across a hot stove." Life is fluid beauty,
even in tragedy.
Okay, I'll stop now.
Do you compose your work at the computer? If not, where?
I compose mainly on the computer. Thank God for the high school typing
class I took my freshman year. I only use a journal or napkins for lil'
bits and pieces, although I do find myself sending ideas via email to home
from work. Don't tell anyone.
What poet do you read for pleasure?
I like many different poets, but in the end it's always Mr. Jack Kerouac -
he gives me "mad glee" powers I could never live without.
What do you do if you lack inspiration?
Read, listen to music, walk my dog, or take a nap.
Do you own a dog? If so, what kind.
I have a 12-year-old black and white male Shih Tzu named Joshua...and he has
a 35-year-old white male named Kevin.
Selected poem:
Self-test
I had been hanging out a Borders
when I saw this book on clearance.
It was entitled
"The Small Dog Walking Guide
For Big Sensitive Men Who Write Poetry
And Fantasize About Getting In Bar Fights
To Avoid Being Called A Girl."
At the end of Section IV,
"Fending Off Late Night Taunts,"
there is a self-test.
"While walking your small dog late at night,
and young punks in a passing truck call out
'Nice dog, faggot,' do you:"
A) Wet yourself and hide in a bush,
leaving your dog on the curb.
B) Throw rocks at the truck,
pick up your dog,
and run home very fast not looking back.
C) Stand directly in the middle of the road
willing the punks to stop and turn around
in order to confront your foes with sharp
four letter words and bitter witty aphorisms.
I chose C),
but then switched to B)
when the willing didn't work.
I think they hit a cat.
Most recent book or publication:
Hey, I'm working on it. To date, my poetry and prose have appeared online
in L'Intrigue, Bluff Magazine, Rustlings of the Wind, October Moon, The
Poet's Cut, Poetically Speaking, and I'm a regular contributor and staff
member for ThinkForYourself.com.
