The Poet’s Journey
(after a painting by Lily Moon)
The girl has stars attached to her wrists
by strings. The stars like fireflies. I mean
alive, with agendas. They’ve come to take her.
But, on her head is a greening tree,
even her dress is hemmed in trees.
A small man stands in this forest with a lantern
squinting into the weak light, calling her name.
She can’t shake him or the root system.
The stars, in the centers of their own haloes,
raise her arms a little, just a little
and wobble with the weight.
- Sarah Sousa
photo credit: TOBIAS LAMONTAGNE
In this moment, I am typing to you from a train rushing along the Connecticut sound, Philadelphia bound. A few minutes ago, there was a giant, glowing moon over the blue expanse, but I can't see it now. I could say a whole lot more about what I am seeing as it is picturesque in its own way-- if you are partial to that cold, New England charm. However, I'm a bit tongue-tied in this moment as I'm about to share my exciting news with you that Sarah Sousa will be joining us in June-- and if there's anything that can shutter my tapping fingers it's being in the presence of a poet.
Suddenly I feel most ungainly and all my words seem an awkward choice-- but look at me soldiering on.
boo-YAH. Am warrior. Hear me roar.
(Actually, I have recently discovered I am a member of the Bear clan and should by all rights be deep into hibernation at this moment, but I'll share more about that on another day). For now, I want to say how thrilled I am that Sarah will be with us for the week and that on Friday night in the Playhouse, she will be reading from her book Church of Needles that won the 2013 Red Mountain Press Book Prize.
Grace
That our selves separate
like milk from cream.
That wings beat the sides
of the bowl like blood’s
fricatives. That the morning
sun illuminating curtains is froth.
O, honey, dear zest.
I can’t relinquish
my issued robe
and trenchant dreams
with the butter still melting
on my tongue, with the soft
white cap of the egg
just lifted off.
- from Church of Needles
Sarah's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Apalachee Review, Barn Owl Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, The Best of Kore Press 2012 Poetry and Water-Stone Review, among others. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and was a finalist for the Kinereth Gensler Award at Alice James Books, the Kathryn A Morton Prize at Sarabande Books and the Tupelo First/Second Book Award among others.
I thought it would be fun for us to get to know her a bit better and she was game, so off we go!
:: :: :: ::
Do you remember the first poem you read or memorized?
I don’t remember the first poem I ever read, but the first poem I memorized, at about 15, was the Emily Dickinson poem;
My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me,
So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
And it’s still committed to memory.
Did you always know you were a poet?
From about the age of 12.
Who were the poets of your youth?
Emily Dickinson was the first poet I read and loved.
Many people see Emily Dickinson as a flowers and bees’ poet, easy to understand, because of poems that come across on first read as simple nature poetry. She’s anything but. Emily Dickinson was a fierce and brilliant poet.
She worked with nature imagery because it was all around her. She was an avid gardener, fluent in the language of flowers, birds, trees. Scholars and writers are still trying to get their heads around her talent and puzzling over the conundrum that was E.D. If you want to read some powerful writing read her 'Master Letters' which are a series of letters written much like her poetry that are addressed to 'Master'. No one knows for sure if Master was a man or a metaphor. Scholars have yet to solve that mystery.
If there’s one person I would love to have a chat with, it’s Emily Dickinson.
Who were the poets of your adolescence?
Not quite adolescence, but later teens: Sylvia Plath, Jane Kenyon, Anne Sexton, Anna Ahkmatova, Rita Dove, Louise Gluck. I tend to gravitate toward female poets because their power is more subversive.
Who are the poets today that you revere-- or who light you up?
Mary Biddinger, Lucy Brock-Broido, Jack Gilbert, Claudia Emerson, Annie Boutelle, Mary Szybist, Sandra Beasley, Franz Wright. There are so, so many. Contemporary poetry is seriously vibrant, both young poets and seasoned veterans are producing phenomenal poetry, poetry that the general public would really enjoy if they knew it existed.
What is your writing schedule?
I’m a morning person and write best in the hours before noon.
Do poems come easily to you?
Poems come easier than they used to because I know how to work with the process better now than when I was young.
I don’t expect a poem to come out fully formed and actually enjoy revision, moving lines around and fiddling with a poem more than anything. But neither do I sit down and produce lengthy free-writes, free-associations, etc. There’s nothing wrong with that if it’s your process, but I save the personal prose for my journal. I don’t write with the intention of unburdening myself or writing out my feelings.
My poems tend to be two pages or under, so I use the short form as a kind of poetic form. Lately, I enter a poem through language and sound play, sometimes the spark of a story, and then discover the meaning of the poem as I proceed. But I always sit down with the intent of producing a poem. I may not continue with the poem after the initial writing, I may “throw it away”, but I still feel I’ve written a poem. A bad poem maybe, but still a poem.
What's your favorite part of the world?
I don’t fly so I’ve seen very little of the world and am not qualified to speak with any authority. But I love the ocean, historic homes and historic villages and have found New England to be the place that makes me most happy. I’m a bit biased as I’m a native New Englander. I could do with half the winter though.
Four words that you really (really) love?
That’s seriously hard. I glanced through a few recent poems and chose: cleave, pith, keel, limned
Life experiences you'd just as soon not repeat?
adolescence, childbirth
Best way to spend a Sunday?
Sundays are not my favorite day, never have been. But, in general, a good day would involve a productive writing session in the early morning, coffee and talking with my husband mid morning, an afternoon buying plants for the garden and a good Americano somewhere along the way. A planting session afterward; my favorite part is designing the garden beds. Maybe an early dinner out and plenty of time to read in the evening. If it’s not gardening season and I’m in the mood, I might bake; bread, pie, or cookies while listening to The Splendid Table and then sit with a cup of tea and a magazine.
Thank you so much Sarah! June can't get here soon enough!
bisous, e