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The process of making a poem and that of interacting with poets over a poem and, by implication, over the art of making a poem seems to me to lie at the heart of what we are considering as we share and interact on the board at DMR. In part to see what some of us think on these matters, and in part to invite conscious thought about what we are doing with each other’s poems on the board – and with the practice of our art itself – I invited Jim Corner and Sarah Sloat to respond to a series of four questions. I would like to share them with you … and to invite your reflection on them as well. It seems to me that such a reflection together would serve to enhance our learning from one another.

The questions read:
• How does a poem start for you? and then evolve?
• In the interaction with commenting readers, where is the lively spark for you?
  
• As poets mentor each other in critical dialogue or discussion over a poem and the happening of our art, how do you see yourself as alternately mentor and mentee?
  
• How do you know when your poem is "there"?

And the answers come:

From Sarah:

Where does a poem start, evolve?

For me a poem starts with words, or with a sensation I want to identify with words. It doesn’t usually start with the realization "I’m happy," or "Damn, I’m sad." I keep a notebook, and many, many stray pieces of paper, with ideas and lines and phrases on them that occur to me that I think might eventually bloom. With nothing in my hands, I can’t sit down and say, “now I’m going to write that poem about the Parisians.” I have to already have some words or an image in mind. I’ve got one going that started out with the sentence "Here they come rolling like Rs." I hope I will someday finish it.

That said, I also don’t think you have to wait for something big to happen to you in order to get an idea for a poem. Just sit down and mull it over. Read. Look at your scraps of paper. Compare the rain to an architect.

In interaction, where is the lively spark?

Like many people, I don’t live in a community brimming with poets or even big poetry readers. Because I live in a non-English speaking country, the internet has been important to me, though it’s difficult to find an online community that suits you.

Having found one, however, I find the lively spark in having an audience, and in being an audience. When I post a poem, mostly I want to know if I hit it off with the reader, keeping in mind there will always be different opinions or a scale of response. It interests me first to know if a reader likes the poem, then to listen to their take on strengths and weaknesses. It’s much more informative to me if someone says "This poem sucks" than if they say "Your preposition in S2L5 should be shifted down to the following line."

Aside from my own poems, I of course like reading other poet’s work, and giving them my own reaction and ideas about it, and seeing what other readers ideas are in a thread even if I don’t comment on a particular poem. I have met a number of truly fine poets on the internet, and some excellent critics, from everywhere. And many of them have introduced to poets I hadn’t known. I might not have read Linda Pastan or Amy Gerstler if a friend on the internet hadn’t told me I should get me quickly to the bookstore.

How do you see yourself as mentor, mentee?

As a mentor, though I don’t pretend to be one, I try to be honest. I have my tastes like anyone. I like images and prize a wonderful vocabulary. I don’t want to tell anyone how to write their poems, but I’ll tell them what I did or didn’t like, and make a few suggestions. There are many people out there that you can’t tell anything to, so best to figure that out quickly. And there are people who start out like I did, who are moved to try to express something, and are looking for the words and means to do it.

When is a poem "there" for you?

The poem is "there" when it starts telling me to shut up. Shut up!, it yells in a strangely melodious voice. But I have to admit to being a bad judge sometimes. I’ve withdrawn a number of poems that I had second thoughts about. I’ve revised poems and been happy with them only to feel a sad let-down the next morning reading them over again. I should sit on them a couple weeks, read them again, sit on them another couple weeks and then ask myself if they’re still "there." A lot of better words could occur to me in the meantime.

And Jim Corner:

Where does a poem start, evolve?

It’s difficult to name all the elements that spark my poems. Major ones are nature, persons, faith, unusual news and events, movies, poems of others, Kathy and home life, humor, and honestly elements that only I can imagine. Actually, at times, I have silent moments at my desk or walking the dog when time seems to stop. These are very brief voids when I feel much temptation to begin a poem. However, often an evolving poem depends upon my mood. At other times I may hardly take my fingers off the keyboard until a first version is complete. Seldom does this version get posted until a few readings and proofing, although if Kathy is available I ask her to wring out the typo’s. Often I can tell whether or not the poem is on a run.

The Japanese structure I’ve often followed or another poet’s structure - that may take long hours. My long poem Hiatus with the Essenes required many hours as I pretended I was Jesus telling this part of my story and beyond.

In interaction, where is the lively spark?

Of course, when someone gives me a very interesting analysis, perhaps a few positive elements that were not intended, I am really sparked. I suppose, most of the time, it’s when I can get a critic to discuss my poem giving me good suggestions and helpful criticisms.

I’m also often intrigued by Biblical, historical, little known events and theological and philosophical subjects.

Certain internal poetic elements like metaphor, code, universal questions etc. spark a few lively moments.

How do you see yourself as mentor, mentee?

I’m not a technical mentor, but a pretty good mentee. My once poetic ‘book larnin’ has been so eclectically stretched that mostly I resort to waiting to hear some really good advice, or new concept. I prefer to be a ‘feeling cheerleader’ for a well crafted poem, and a elementary advisor for a rather not so good poem.

When is a poem "there" for you?

I never know when the poem is "there." I do reach a time when I cannot improve on the poem. If I have heavy doubt, I wait a while to revise. If I’m optimistic, but lightly unsure, I go ahead and post the poem to look for solutions for the minor doubts.

Quite often I revise poems I’ve written two or three years ago. I trim, refresh, turn upside down, re-title and pray. Often there is good reception which tells me I have improved over time, although several early poems with revision were published last year.

Thanks to Sarah and Jim for their suggestive thoughts on how this process works for them.

Gary Blankenship has two poems in this month's Snakeskin.

Jim Corner has a poem in the new NOÖ 3.

Yolanda Calderon-Horn has three poems in the upcoming anthology The Best of Writers' Circle.

Al Ferber has three poems in this month's The Blue House. Al's latest book, 12 Miles South of Nowhere, is now available from Xlibris.

Chris George gave an hour-long interview to the Denver radio station, Newsradio 850 KOA AM, on February 23. Chris and co-editor Jim Doss are about to release the Spring issue of Loch Raven Review. The issue contains a number of Desert Moon poets.

Dave Ruslander has finished his first book, Voices In My Head. Please email daveruslander at direcway.com for ordering info.

Sarah Sloat has a poem in the upcoming Third Coast, two in the upcoming DMQ Review, and poems in the current editions of 3d Muse and Snakeskin.

Marie Gail Stratford has three poems in this month's The Blue House.

S. Thomas Summers has two poems in the current edition of 3rd Muse.

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