His poems “Midsummer,” “Memorial Orchard,” “November Email,” “Aubade” and “Eventual Harvest” appear in the fiftieth issue of Touch the Donkey.
Q: Tell me about the poems “Midsummer,” “Memorial Orchard,” “November Email,” “Aubade” and “Eventual Harvest.”
A: These five poems are part of an upcoming collection, called Unfinished Wilderness and they share a spare, reflective, changeful mood. I like the room in these poems, the spaces between some of the lines. They feel a little incomplete to me, in a good way … ongoing … searching. One of them, “November Email,” is a “found poem” taken from an email from Dag T. Straumsvåg. The “Tom” mentioned in the poem is the American poet Tom Hennen.
Q: How do these poems compare to some of the other work you’ve been doing lately?
A: Lately, I’ve been writing a single poem a month, so those poems are usually longer, or multi-layered, or sequences. These five are very minimal and concentrated in comparison. They almost feel like lyrical blueprints, structural framing plans, showing where the poem’s beams are positioned. But it all interconnects in the end. I suppose what I’m writing now is like an addition, an extension, to these earlier plans.
Q: Do you see your writing-to-date as a single, ongoing project, or is this an idea that has been more recently appeared in your work?
A: Yes and no. It feels connected together, looking back. But usually seems pretty disparate and scattered in the moment. It’s a little like the weather. Sun. Rain. Cloud. Snow. Hail. Fog. Different temperatures every day, different conditions, but all part of a single, ongoing ecosystem.
Q: Do you have any models for the kinds of work you’ve been attempting?
A: I’m always searching for open, patient, curious models of composition. These days, I’m following the Charles Rafferty model of writing, which means spending “a month writing down whatever comes into my head” and then “after a month, I take all these pages and start distilling them down … whittling a poem out of the mess.” I like having pages and pages of words and phrases to play with. I enjoy the challenge of trying to shape a basket of random ingredients into an associative, harmonious meal.
Q: Does this process feel akin to one of stretching one’s muscles, pushing the boundaries of what might be possible, or one of attempting further into the unconscious? How are you finding this Charles Rafferty approach? Have there been any surprises, or even repetitions?
A: Yes, stretching one’s muscles, becoming more flexible, the ability to reach a little further. My favourite part about the Charles Rafferty approach is how it’s inspiring me to slow down, and be more attentive to associations. Previously, my approach was more impulsive, immediate. If a poem didn’t work, I’d abandon the piece and write a fresh one. Now, if a poem falls flat, I’m curious why, and enjoying tinkering with the ingredients to see what changes. One pleasant surprise is being able to sit at the heart of a poem-in-progress. Many of my earlier poems resembled relay races, with the start of the poem handing the baton to the end of the poem. These days I hear some of the humming from the engine room.
Q: With a handful of published collections over the years, as well as your current works-in-progress, how do you feel your work has progressed? Where do you see your work heading?
A: My earliest poems consisted of an assembly of images, and trying to capture those images in bold, unexpected ways. I’m not as interested in “capturing images” these days. I’ve noticed a gradual shift over time where my poems have become less of a product and more of a process, and I see that continuing forward. A recent work-in-progress was inspired by two things: a painting from one of my high school teachers, and an exploration of a bilingual English-Swahili phrasebook. In the past, I would’ve written two separate poems for these distinct topics, taking deep vertical dives. Now I prefer mixing things together horizontally, blurring the boundaries, and integrating elements together. It’s the idea of “integration” that fascinates me most at the moment.
Q: Finally, who do you read to reenergize your own work? What particular works can’t you help but return to?
A: So many poetic Superchargers help keep me on the road. Don Domanski comes to mind for his ability to balance the earthly here-and-now with the universal everywhere-and-always. Each of his books, from The Cape Breton Book of the Dead (1975) to the posthumous Fetishes of the Floating World (2015) continue to teach me things. I also return to Mary Ruefle often. I love how her work manages to frame the most everyday human experience into something spectacular. Y.S. Lee once gifted me with a mug displaying the words: What Would Mary Ruefle Do? I drink from it daily. Plus I return to Tomas Transtromer on a regular basis for his clarity and associative leaps. His work has been endlessly regenerative for me, and I can see how the poems in his final collection, The Great Enigma (2004), inspired the five poems appearing in Touch the Donkey. The spare concision. The wounded spirit. The stoic acceptance of the inner mystery of it all.
