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1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
My first book, The Transparent Body, came out in the Wesleyan New Poets series in 1989, while my second, God in Her Ruffled Dress, came out from the L.A.-based publishing collective What Books Press in late 2023. That 34-year gap made the two books feel significantly different. I went from young poet to way older, indie singer-poet-songwriter who still wrote poetry for the page. My first gave me joy, jitters, and relief at a stamp of legitimacy as poet. And satisfaction that what I envisioned, after what felt like a long slog of submitting the manuscript, came to pass. As it turns out, I had no idea what a long slog really was. Though I kept writing poems and seeing them published in journals and anthologies, and submitting my evolving poetry manuscripts, by the time my second book came out, my focus had shifted a great deal to the music world, as I had released seven full-length albums since 1999 while the music scene itself kept shifting (indies pouring into the music marketplace, CDs, mp3s, streaming, pandemic) and I had practically given up hope of publishing a second poetry book. With the new book, I feel as if I've parachuted back into a poetry scene that sure looks different in 2024 – essentially, much more academic, more award-focused, and with many more poets. But I appreciate the relative collegiality of poetry publishing and its focus on art versus commerce. It's easier than the music scene to navigate, at least for me. As for my work, it's wider-ranging, newly including inspiration from music and vocalizing and newly reflecting the interests and revelations from studying clairvoyant reading and healing and then launching a career in 1993 as a professional psychic reader.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
My mother was a poet, though not published, and our family bookshelves included the best poetry of the era and before, the Beats and Black Mountain and the most interesting work of the 60s and 70s. All of which I devoured. And being an incipient singer and a music lover, my soul craved lyricism.
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 don't take notes. At this point, I write to investigate what feels most pressing to me in my life and perceptions and self. I've learned to write and then put it aside. Usually when I take the poem out again to revise, whether two months or years later, the revision is minimal. But I do often like book-length projects and series, so the shaping of those is often painstaking and full of changes small and large. I'm relieved not to have the academic pressure to publish or perish.
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?
As for where I begin, I listen when something tugs at me urgently internally, an image or word or line, and sit down and make myself follow where it leads – usually at night and usually when everyone else is asleep and out of my air space, so to speak. . At this point, I do generally have a book in the back of my mind, because my obsessions and deep dives over a certain period tend to explore a certain territory.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love giving poetry readings. Giving them made me realize I really was a performer – reading poetry and holding an audience felt like a calling that opened up into singing. I had studied music and piano-playing as a child but really wanted to sing, but I was too chicken. Poetry readings gave me the confidence to seriously study singing and start learning how to perform as one and lead a band. Now, returning again to many poetry readings as part of this latest book tour, and even adding some a cappella singing, I revel in the simplicity of the process – the logistics are minimal, the realm is more high art than commerce, amplification is straightforward, I don't have to pay or hire anyone else or rehearse with them, I don't have to worry about how much alcohol the crowd will buy or deal with bookers concerned about that, I have no musical charts to carefully notate for the band. I wouldn't say that the readings are part of the process of my producing a poem – rather that since my poems are very musical, they call out to be performed, and reading them publicly completes the creative process.
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 dislike poetry that wears on its sleeve a concern with theory of any kind. I've been a socialist feminist lefty since I was a young teen, and that was many decades ago, so I find myself rather bored by the repetition of political theoretical concerns that I've been reading and thinking about for so long. By all means be faithful to your journey in all its dimensions, but make it new, concrete, and musical, and not self-indulgently intellectual even when you're thinking through it. My current questions seem to be remarkably of a piece with my initial questions, having to do with how to be both a body and a spirit and how to keep growing as myself. But that sounds so reductive and simple. I guess I still follow William Carlos Williams' "no idea but in things," meaning honor the concrete image, to which I would add, "Does it sing?"
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?
Many different roles are available to a writer today but they don't feel as central to the larger culture as they once were. I wouldn't prescribe which path any writer should take. But every path is challenging since our culture has shifted from the book to the computer/phone screen. As for myself, I honor the ancient tribal role of being at once poet/singer/shaman/healer. I want to create positive change in the physical and energetic body of the reader or listener, from the base of the spine to the top of the head, that results in more personal and community freedom. Does the larger culture support or welcome this? To some extent: the larger culture now means the online culture, and that does attract millions of "eyeballs" (as they say) and ears to vocalists and musicians and some poets, who have aims similar to mine in some ways. In a smaller slice of the culture, academia, students also discover poetry, which is good, but it feels parenthetical to where the rest of the culture is pointing them. The writer serves the screen in our culture. But we can still seize interest.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
Both. I prefer a light touch from a really smart and open-minded and -eared editor. I show all my work to a few trusted readers and ask for feedback.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Find some amusement.
10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to songwriting/recording/performing)? What do you see as the appeal?
It's refreshing to switch genres – different technical demands, different frames for production and consumption, different opportunities as an artist seeking an audience. Poetry is the entire orchestra, while song lyrics whether sung or spoken must leave room for many other instruments. Poetry is private, music collaborative. I desperately need both.
11 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I do lots of different things throughout the days. Lately, again, I try to include reading some poetry. That often leads to writing some. I don't follow a writing routine; see answer to question 4.
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
The work of another poet or musician. Or to physical movement from housecleaning, walking, dancing.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
Chocolate.
14 - 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?
All of that. Also the "movies" I see and the dialogue I hear as a clairvoyant/clairaudient reader and healing practitioner working with others.
15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
So many, but some of my favorites are Emily Dickinson, metaphysical 17th century poet George Herbert, Federico Garcia Lorca, Shakespeare, William Carlos Williams, Adrienne Rich, Langston Hughes. I was also inspired by many lyricists, including Gil Scott-Heron, Stephen Sondheim, and Cole Porter, and by the blues genre.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
A well-paid international tour as a performing poet-singer with my band.
17 - 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?
I have two other overlapping careers (singer and psychic reader-healer). I'm glad I'm not solely a poet. This is a family trait or model of possibility – my father was a professional engineer, attorney, and jazz photographer. I also worked for many years as a technical editor and then a marketing writer for environmental scientists and engineers, and sometimes for educational nonprofits. I liked that. Some art, lots of craft, a way to focus on the external world and how it's put together, and to be helpful to people in ways that they needed. And of course, a way to earn money. My coworkers usually liked my art and supported it, so I felt more "in the world" while being at my core a poet.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
An overflow of sensitivity, the support of my parents, and a lot of stubbornness.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
I just finished a deeply satisfying novel, Manhattan Beach by Jennifer Egan. The last great film eludes me, but I will say I thought the television series The Wire was a masterpiece.
20 - What are you currently working on?
A poetry manuscript called "The Corridor" – basically, about mortality and the way its looming larger to me.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
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