Terra Oliveira is the author of Itinerant Songs (July 2025), and the founding editor of Recenter Press. A finalist in the 2024 Sandy Crimmins National Prize for Poetry, her poems have appeared in The American Poetry Review, Bamboo Ridge, The Common, Puerto del Sol, Protean Magazine, and more. Her poetry and illustration collection, An Old Blue Light, won the Where Are You Press Poetry Contest in 2015, and she has been awarded international residencies at The Schoolhouse at Mutianyu at the Great Wall of China, and elsewhere. Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, her family lineages migrated from the Hawaiian Islands, the Azores, Southern China, Guadalajara, and throughout Europe. Her work is an extension of her core practices and beliefs: in recovery, community, pilgrimage and retreat, and peoples' movements globally.
1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
I self-published my first book, in passing., in May 2015. Each poem was accompanied by illustrative interpretations of each poem, hand drawn in white lines against a stark black background. Since then, I have published several books: (more than) dust. (a photo book I funded on Kickstarter in 2016), The Calming (Where Are You Press, 2016), a poetry and illustration book which I republished as An Old Blue Light (2017) when I changed my name, Processes: A Meditation (2017, micropoetry and illustration), And Still To Sleep (2018, poetry, prose, and 35mm film photography), The Road Is Long & Beautiful (2022, 35mm film photography), and now, Itinerant Songs (July 2025). Itinerant Songs is my first book of exclusively poems. My voice has changed and developed a lot since my first books—my political perspective, emotional and psychological maturity, so many things influenced by life-experience, political organizing, and recovery especially.
It’s hard to say that my life changed much outwardly from my first book, as it only sold a small amount of copies and I didn’t really know what I was doing in terms of marketing and distribution. I’ve since made my first book unavailable for purchase (name change, etc), and I ended up consolidating my favorite poems from in passing. into An Old Blue Light when I re-released it. But, publishing in passing. did teach me a lot about book design and story arcs, and it gave me the confidence to keep making books, tabling at zine fests, and eventually founding my own small press, Recenter Press.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
Like many poets I’ve met, I’ve been writing poetry since childhood. My middle school friends and I would frequently write poems and song lyrics together. Recently, when I was cleaning out my dad’s storage unit, I came across one of my homework assignments from elementary school, where I wrote a letter to a children’s author saying that “I wish I was a poet,” asserting that “I’m going to be an author when I grow up.” I suppose a part of me always knew which direction I wanted to go.
I also came of age during Tumblr’s peak, where I’d share my own poems and reblog others’ work. I experimented a lot with my writing at the time, often very publicly. I would say that was my first real introduction to contemporary poetry, and then through DIY publishing, not through academia in any way. I was not particularly interested in writing fiction, and still don’t feel called to it, but I am interested in personal essays and would eventually like to write more long-form pieces in the genre.
3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
I started working on Itinerant Songs in 2018, and just published it this year if that’s any indication. I write poems in spurts, sometimes going months without writing, and sometimes writing many poems in a short period of time. I usually edit them quite a bit from their first drafts; my poems go through a lot of reshaping and chipping away. It’s a lot like kneading bread.
4 - Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
Usually, a line will come to me and I’ll go from there. I don’t often sit down with nothing and try to conjure up a poem. Something comes, and I’ll see what else it has to say. Or from a prompt, or reading someone else’s poem, which is part of why I think it’s so important for poets to read other poets. I want to always be in conversation with others, whether explicitly or not.
I write standalone poems without initially thinking of how they would fit into a book or relate to my other poems. I do start with compiling them all in a single Google Doc, and when I eventually think I could have enough to fit into a book, I’ll select my favorites and start organizing them in InDesign or Canva and try to put the similarly-themed poems near each other. Over time, I continue to edit, cut, add, and shape a narrative arc with the poems I have. The book ends up revealing itself to me along the way.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
While I was writing Itinerant Songs, I mostly took a hiatus from doing public readings. At the time, I wasn’t interested in reading my new work while directing people to my earlier books. Instead, I put a lot of my energy into submitting to literary magazines and compiling my book. Now that Itinerant Songs is released, poetry readings are a huge part of sharing and marketing my book. Marketing online exclusively is not only a slog, but it’s not as effective or as fun as bringing our poems into a room full of engaged listeners. We sell our books, build connections and community, and support other poets along the way. I feel a great deal of stress and pressure leading up to readings, and fears of failure or of no one showing up, but once I’m there living it, I relax and really enjoy them.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?
I’m interested in writing from a working class, anti-imperialist lens that also communicates the sanctity of things: of water, of land, of spirit, and of people. I don’t think I have answers as much as I just hope to write personal testimonies as a witness and as a systemic critique. I think we need to keep asking ourselves in our writing and in our lives: how do we cope? Where do we find hope, and in what? How do we build solidarity? How do we fight back? How do we reclaim our lives? Where do we go from here?
7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
A writer has the responsibility to tell the truth and to be a mirror. I don’t think every writer should be writing about every issue either, especially topics they know little about or have only seen fragments of on social media. There’s this tendency where people and writers may feel the need to have a hot take or write a think piece about every cultural and political moment, whereas not everyone needs to be a news outlet (not that many news outlets are really doing a great job at “truth telling”). What I mean is, writers should consider how much we know about a topic before publicly speaking to it, what our motivations are for writing, and whose agenda our writing is furthering. Our writing should serve our own and others’ betterment in some capacity, whether that’s helping our society as a whole or helping us see and know ourselves more clearly.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I am embarrassed to admit this, but I don’t often work with an outside editor for my poetry or personal essays. The one time I had a book published by another publisher, my editor had no editing suggestions when I gave them my final draft. I don’t know if it’s because I already edited my poems to death or what. There was actually one occasion where I had several poets give feedback on a writing sample I put together, and the feedback I received was really helpful. Editors help us push ourselves and develop our ideas more, so I would like to work with experienced editors more often in the future. I think it can be difficult because I’m somewhat stubborn and hard-headed about my ideas, but keeping an open mind to others’ suggestions has helped to improve my writing, other creative practices, and many areas of my life in general.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Slogans I’ve heard in recovery communities to be honest: keep an open mind, one day at a time, live and let live. I need to be reminded of them daily.
10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
When I was writing Itinerant Songs, and working full-time as a bookstore manager for the last two years of writing it, I’d spend hours after work or Saturday mornings or Sunday nights sitting at cafes and working on my poems. I don’t have a daily writing practice, but I try to do something that furthers my writing most days each week: actually engaging in the writing itself, submitting to poetry journals, promoting my book, booking readings, applying to residencies, anything related to the project of writing and getting it out there in the world. I’m obnoxiously organized and keep spreadsheets and Google Keep lists of tasks I need to do for my writing.
As far as how my mornings begin, now that I’m not traditionally employed (which is a struggle of its own), my morning routine is in a bit of a flux. My ideal morning routine would start with prayer, reading, journaling, and a simple breakfast. I am not a creative or technical writer in the mornings—that is the time I usually reserve for writing personal reflections, things I’m grateful for, things I’m powerless over. Lately, I might compulsively start my morning by opening my emails or reading some article online, needing to unglue myself, then writing to-do lists for the day. Then I’ll typically take a long walk before sitting at a cafe or library and working on book-related tasks. The best way for me to start a morning is by not taking in any information on the internet and clearing my head, but that’s a habit I’ve struggled to get away from. Mornings are such a cherished time for me, and something I’m always working on.
11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
I’ll stop trying to write or edit and focus on reading others’ writing. Writers are literary citizens, and my favorite way to participate in the literary community is by reading, responding to, and sharing others’ work. Especially books from contemporary poets published by small, independent presses. That usually sparks something in me.
12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Miso soup. Steam from a rice cooker. Bay water breezes.
13 - David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?
I am absolutely influenced by my time writing in nature. While I don’t do it often, some of my most grounded poems came from time in communion with the natural environment. My poems Here and Bon Tempe Lake in my book, Itinerant Songs, are some examples. My writing is really shaped by experience, by work, and by things I’ve read elsewhere.
14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
Some of my favorite poets right now are: Lucille Clifton, Marie Howe, Gina Myers, Marion Bell, Lora Mathis, Ryan Eckes, Amy Berkowitz. All of the authors I publish through Recenter Press. People who write about Hawai’i and anti-imperialism. 12 step literature and recovery-oriented books, which are what I read the most. Spiritual texts.
15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
So many things. Walk the Camino Francés and Camino Primitivo. Write a memoir or some other creative nonfiction. Really learn hula. Run an event space / bookshop / residency of some kind down the road. Have my own home that can also be a project and creative expression. Have a family. Get an MFA.
16 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
Vocation has continued to be a big question for me. While I consider writing and my creative work to be my “career,” it has not been financially sustainable for me yet. Even as a publisher, I’ve always needed to have an additional job, which informs a lot of my writing too. I’ve been a bookstore manager, community organizer, educator and camp counselor, farmer and farmer’s market vendor, filmmaker, house cleaner, dog walker, among other odd jobs. I am currently considering and looking for what my next job will be, and I haven’t known yet what occupation calls out to me. I don’t know if I even want writing to be my full-time job, or if I pursue an MFA, what I’d even do for work afterwards. I have a lot of skills and interests, and am quite hard-working, so it’s always a matter of where I could meaningfully put that energy and what will sustain my livelihood. In the interim, after I finish my initial book launch, I’ve applied to do a four-month-long apprenticeship and residency at a Zen center, and I’m waiting to hear back from a few writers' residencies I’ve applied to next year. Service and spirituality are an important part of occupation to me, so I’m hoping to use that time to reflect on my values and their relationship with work. What’s most important to me is that my work aligns with a “Right Livelihood,” and that can look a lot of different ways.
17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Obsession lol? Needing a way to organize my thoughts, feelings, and ideas, and then to use it as a tool to have people see—whether that’s just to be seen, or have others see something I’m seeing.
18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
I loved Gina Myers’ newest poetry book, Works & Days, which was just released from the Philadelphia-based Radiator Press. I also recently read Amy Berkowitz’ Tender Points, from Nightboat Books, which was a brilliant testament to chronic pain and its relationship to trauma. I couldn’t recommend those books enough, both for their craft and ideological clarity.
As far as film, for someone that has a B.A. in Cinema (really it's for documentary film production), I am the opposite of a film buff. I love cheesy, unpretentious TV and being entertained. I rarely watch movies, but I love a good series binge. My favorite show I watched recently was Outlander; I loved the time-travel elements mixed in with Scottish and anti-colonial history. Now I’m watching Sex and the City for the first time, which I love watching as a single 30-something writer who was having no luck with dating to the point where I took a one-year dating break. Now I get to watch their drama and feel relieved I’m not doing all that right now.
19 - What are you currently working on?
Mostly, just trying to get my book out there. I’ve been doing a ton of poetry readings around the Bay Area, and it’s very gratifying to finally share these poems that I’ve been working for so long on. Otherwise, I don’t have a new project in the works yet. I’ve been working on my physical health, and trying to make progress in some recovery programs I’m in. I’m grateful for the opportunity to share Itinerant Songs, to devote a great deal of time to promoting it, and to take the pressure off of producing something new. I would not call it a break at all, but a time to give this new book my all and to read others’ work. I’ve also recently opened the call for submissions again for Issue Six of the Recenter Press Poetry Journal, so I’m excited to curate another issue this winter and share all those new works.

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