Beth & kelly @ Lorine Niedecker's home in Wisconsin
Elizabeth Breese, a Wisconsin native, is making it work in Ohio. She graduated in May 2010 from The Ohio State University's MFA in creative writing program. Her poems are published or forthcoming in Barrow Street, FIELD, and Hayden's Ferry Review. Her chapbook, The Lonely-wilds, will be published by the Wick Poetry Center in February 2011. Please enjoy the poem below, an original by Queen Breese.
Exodus
3. when did you begin writing poems? i had the pleasure of first reading your poems when we had workshop together at Lawrence University ~ ~ ~ your specialty then was something you called, Vignettes. as in: you wrote these delicate little morsels of compact-yummy-poetic-yum. are you still writing these lil droplets?
Elementary school: birth of the cool.
I think I still write in morsels, but they are getting strung together now with associative twine. It’s a potpourri! Ok, but lest it sound all willy-nilly, I really do work hard on making it possible to get from point A to B. I mean, it’s probably not a breeze, but I do care.
4. talk to me about grad school, girlfriend. i mean, gimme a summary of your experience, from teaching to workshop ... to winning dollars and publishing ... are you graduated yet?
Grad school has been the best experience of my life, but it also coincides with the some of the most difficult experiences. Still, according to my math, graduate school comes out ahead. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Teaching is more challenging than I anticipated. I experience fluke days of stage fright which can be super demoralizing—because I take it too seriously? Is that possible? But, oh! I have had some wonderful workshops. They have been the favorite part of my week for the last three years with some very notable exceptions. When a workshop goes badly, it goes down in flames. Publication is a toughy. I think, at least in some MFA programs, you’re not supposed to want to publish. You’re supposed to focus all your attention on craft, like there’s something a little untoward about publishing, but I do enjoy finding places for my poems. There I said it.
5. how has your grad school experience impacted your writing? are poetry and processes now changed? do you feel that this experience benefited you? have you acquired new mentors and poet-friends?
Somehow, I landed among some of the most kindred spirits a girl could ask for. I have a wonderful group of writer-friends (they’re so kind and funny) and have maybe forced someone into being my mentor. Do mentor and mentee have an official-on-paper agreement?
My process as it was when I arrived here is practically nonexistent. I only wrote in short bursts. That’s not much of a process. Eventually, I “worked up” to being able to write for hours and hours. I’m not always putting pen to paper or fingers to keys for those hours, but I can really sit and think about a poem for the majority of a day. I think I mellowed out; before, I was so frantic to get something written, if it didn’t come immediately it never came. Now, I have patience and wait around for the answer or the line or the word. This is something I couldn’t have accomplished without the MFA experience. It’s time. If I didn’t have the time, how would I have discovered patience?
6. you are taller than your grandparents and shorter than your parents. what the bleep is that like?
Well, I am taller than both of my grandmas are/were. I’m not taller than either of my grandpas, though they weren’t tall by any means. We’re all shorties (unless that means something that I don’t intend), except my cousin’s daughter who is 13 and is probably as tall as I am.
7. family is weird, huh? (amazingly wild.) how do your family relationships affect your poetic explorations? do your folks enjoy that you are Beth-the-brilliant-poet?
My parents are both librarians so they can’t complain if they don’t enjoy it. It’s entirely their fault. There was no way I was coming out a chemist. Family is bonkers and if you have one, they’re going to end up in poems or in your art. Don’t you think? I don’t mean in a negative way necessarily. They just tend to be the paradigm.
There hasn’t been something I wanted to write about but haven’t for fear of upsetting my family; if I think there’s something potentially hurtful, there’s nothing to say I have to share it with them. Is there?
8. alright, what is your favorite fab-food-celebration? you’ve got an appetizer, a salad (what’s in there?), a mega main course, dessert, and any sorta dranky you want. tell me a story! (it’s on me, btw.)
I love this game! An appetizer! Fresh bread with olive oil. Ok, the salad is the mega main course because it’s huge. It’s brimming with vegetables, nuts, seeds, and cheese. The dessert is berries with crème fraiche. We’re drinking a malbec even though maybe that’s not what a restaurant would suggest. I’m not a sommelier, but malbec is where it’s at. Also, for our non-drinking friends there’s lemonade and homemade ginger ale. We’re sitting on a porch. It’s early evening in summer. Everybody’s glowing. Nobody has sunburn.
9. Hyacinth Bouquet, Cocteau Twins, Ireland, Wisconsin. talk to me ...
I’m too lazy to be a connoisseur of any one thing? Honestly, I just latch on to the things that make me smile or bring me peace. Ireland feels a bit like a spiritual homeland. Wisconsin is my actual homeland and I’ve come to love its forests and lakes and green green grass.
10. Beth. experimental poetry. are you an experimental poet? what is experimental poetry? ... and what are your 4 favorite flowers?
I’m so confused by the term “experimental poetry.” I always think every poet (and artist, for that matter) is experimental. We’re all experimenting with words and images and form. Even if you’re writing in meter, you’re experimenting with it. So, yes, I’d say I’m experimental, but I’m not sure what someone with a scholarly or critical definition of “experimental” would say. I write lyric poems. My moves are more associative. So, it turns out all I can say is I’m not a narrative poet.
Springtime flowers are my favorite overall—irises and tulips. I love fuchsia which was ev-er-y-where in Ireland. Also in Ireland is an orange and yellow wildflower called montbretia. I love it! Its blossoms or buds grow in such a lovely largest-to-smallest fashion.
11. Beth, i wonder a lot about poets, you know? ... well, about artists of the Avant-Garde, too. do you see common traits amongst poets? like, are they all wine drinkers or rock collectors or people who barely made it through childhood? what does your observational radar say? and talk to me please about future aspirations.
Well, I drink wine and collect rocks, but I skated through childhood. Ha! I don’t know if there’s any one behavior I can isolate as being a poet thing; then again, a poet friend will tell me what they did that day and I will think “of course that is what you did, because you’re a poet.” I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently and haven’t arrived at a conclusion. Introversion is a possible commonality. To be a poet, I think you’ve got to be comfortable spending a lot of time with your own thoughts. Finally ... My fantasty life is teaching creative writing in a university/college setting and continuing my own writing and publishing. Wouldn’t that be delicious?
Left places, found later by the word of a mouth
—Plymouth and Berlin—write of passage,
sickness, harvesting, and marriage
to the Mother or the Father.
The news is distantly related to others
in the mother-tongue. Far flung
cousins note the spaces in between.
💧
💧
6 things kelly loves about Beth ~ ~ ~
* you have the most incredible collection of earrings ~ i remember feeling drawn to you initially because of an especially large pair that made you look all mystery-bird.
* you are such a birdy-blossom ~ ~ ~ (!)
* ... such honesty about emotions and sensitivities
* such yummy poems and progress, you ~
* i love our combined efforts to remain in touch after undergrad ~ this is a valuable thing to me ~ to have such a sweet poet-friend.
* i really trust your existence + growth.
* you have the most incredible collection of earrings ~ i remember feeling drawn to you initially because of an especially large pair that made you look all mystery-bird.
* you are such a birdy-blossom ~ ~ ~ (!)
* ... such honesty about emotions and sensitivities
* such yummy poems and progress, you ~
* i love our combined efforts to remain in touch after undergrad ~ this is a valuable thing to me ~ to have such a sweet poet-friend.
* i really trust your existence + growth.
5 things that Beth likes about kelly ~ ~ ~
* You’re the fiercest gentle/gentlest fierce person I’ve ever known.
* You’re the fiercest gentle/gentlest fierce person I’ve ever known.
* Your willingness to go big, to lay it all on the line.
* I love your snowflake tattoos.
* You’re a pilgrim after art, nature, and good people.
* Though it’s been a long time since we’ve been next to each other, I think it’s safe to say you still always smell good. Like rose lip balm.
* I love your snowflake tattoos.
* You’re a pilgrim after art, nature, and good people.
* Though it’s been a long time since we’ve been next to each other, I think it’s safe to say you still always smell good. Like rose lip balm.
1. dearest Beth, what significance does honey have in your life and in your poems?
Honey. It’s the purest sweetest thing I can think of. I really really like the idea of honey, but I don’t eat it all that often, and I don’t think it’s especially significant in my poems. That’s not very exciting. I like that it is goopy in a non-threatening way.
2. i should please like to know your top 11 poets. (where does Lorine fit in there?)
The only one that’s in order is Lorine Niedecker. She’s number one forever and always. Ok. Check it: Pablo Neruda, Wislawa Szymborska, Emily Dickinson, John Donne, Matthea Harvey, Charles Wright, Harryette Mullen, Frank O’Hara, Amy Clampitt, and Elizabeth Bishop! This was hard. I bet if I did this in an hour I would have a different list. Except for Lorine and Pablo. I want to be their lovechild, Lorblo Nerudecka. Sick?
Honey. It’s the purest sweetest thing I can think of. I really really like the idea of honey, but I don’t eat it all that often, and I don’t think it’s especially significant in my poems. That’s not very exciting. I like that it is goopy in a non-threatening way.
2. i should please like to know your top 11 poets. (where does Lorine fit in there?)
The only one that’s in order is Lorine Niedecker. She’s number one forever and always. Ok. Check it: Pablo Neruda, Wislawa Szymborska, Emily Dickinson, John Donne, Matthea Harvey, Charles Wright, Harryette Mullen, Frank O’Hara, Amy Clampitt, and Elizabeth Bishop! This was hard. I bet if I did this in an hour I would have a different list. Except for Lorine and Pablo. I want to be their lovechild, Lorblo Nerudecka. Sick?
3. when did you begin writing poems? i had the pleasure of first reading your poems when we had workshop together at Lawrence University ~ ~ ~ your specialty then was something you called, Vignettes. as in: you wrote these delicate little morsels of compact-yummy-poetic-yum. are you still writing these lil droplets?
Elementary school: birth of the cool.
I think I still write in morsels, but they are getting strung together now with associative twine. It’s a potpourri! Ok, but lest it sound all willy-nilly, I really do work hard on making it possible to get from point A to B. I mean, it’s probably not a breeze, but I do care.
4. talk to me about grad school, girlfriend. i mean, gimme a summary of your experience, from teaching to workshop ... to winning dollars and publishing ... are you graduated yet?
Grad school has been the best experience of my life, but it also coincides with the some of the most difficult experiences. Still, according to my math, graduate school comes out ahead. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Teaching is more challenging than I anticipated. I experience fluke days of stage fright which can be super demoralizing—because I take it too seriously? Is that possible? But, oh! I have had some wonderful workshops. They have been the favorite part of my week for the last three years with some very notable exceptions. When a workshop goes badly, it goes down in flames. Publication is a toughy. I think, at least in some MFA programs, you’re not supposed to want to publish. You’re supposed to focus all your attention on craft, like there’s something a little untoward about publishing, but I do enjoy finding places for my poems. There I said it.
5. how has your grad school experience impacted your writing? are poetry and processes now changed? do you feel that this experience benefited you? have you acquired new mentors and poet-friends?
Somehow, I landed among some of the most kindred spirits a girl could ask for. I have a wonderful group of writer-friends (they’re so kind and funny) and have maybe forced someone into being my mentor. Do mentor and mentee have an official-on-paper agreement?
My process as it was when I arrived here is practically nonexistent. I only wrote in short bursts. That’s not much of a process. Eventually, I “worked up” to being able to write for hours and hours. I’m not always putting pen to paper or fingers to keys for those hours, but I can really sit and think about a poem for the majority of a day. I think I mellowed out; before, I was so frantic to get something written, if it didn’t come immediately it never came. Now, I have patience and wait around for the answer or the line or the word. This is something I couldn’t have accomplished without the MFA experience. It’s time. If I didn’t have the time, how would I have discovered patience?
6. you are taller than your grandparents and shorter than your parents. what the bleep is that like?
Well, I am taller than both of my grandmas are/were. I’m not taller than either of my grandpas, though they weren’t tall by any means. We’re all shorties (unless that means something that I don’t intend), except my cousin’s daughter who is 13 and is probably as tall as I am.
7. family is weird, huh? (amazingly wild.) how do your family relationships affect your poetic explorations? do your folks enjoy that you are Beth-the-brilliant-poet?
My parents are both librarians so they can’t complain if they don’t enjoy it. It’s entirely their fault. There was no way I was coming out a chemist. Family is bonkers and if you have one, they’re going to end up in poems or in your art. Don’t you think? I don’t mean in a negative way necessarily. They just tend to be the paradigm.
There hasn’t been something I wanted to write about but haven’t for fear of upsetting my family; if I think there’s something potentially hurtful, there’s nothing to say I have to share it with them. Is there?
8. alright, what is your favorite fab-food-celebration? you’ve got an appetizer, a salad (what’s in there?), a mega main course, dessert, and any sorta dranky you want. tell me a story! (it’s on me, btw.)
I love this game! An appetizer! Fresh bread with olive oil. Ok, the salad is the mega main course because it’s huge. It’s brimming with vegetables, nuts, seeds, and cheese. The dessert is berries with crème fraiche. We’re drinking a malbec even though maybe that’s not what a restaurant would suggest. I’m not a sommelier, but malbec is where it’s at. Also, for our non-drinking friends there’s lemonade and homemade ginger ale. We’re sitting on a porch. It’s early evening in summer. Everybody’s glowing. Nobody has sunburn.
9. Hyacinth Bouquet, Cocteau Twins, Ireland, Wisconsin. talk to me ...
I’m too lazy to be a connoisseur of any one thing? Honestly, I just latch on to the things that make me smile or bring me peace. Ireland feels a bit like a spiritual homeland. Wisconsin is my actual homeland and I’ve come to love its forests and lakes and green green grass.
10. Beth. experimental poetry. are you an experimental poet? what is experimental poetry? ... and what are your 4 favorite flowers?
I’m so confused by the term “experimental poetry.” I always think every poet (and artist, for that matter) is experimental. We’re all experimenting with words and images and form. Even if you’re writing in meter, you’re experimenting with it. So, yes, I’d say I’m experimental, but I’m not sure what someone with a scholarly or critical definition of “experimental” would say. I write lyric poems. My moves are more associative. So, it turns out all I can say is I’m not a narrative poet.
Springtime flowers are my favorite overall—irises and tulips. I love fuchsia which was ev-er-y-where in Ireland. Also in Ireland is an orange and yellow wildflower called montbretia. I love it! Its blossoms or buds grow in such a lovely largest-to-smallest fashion.
11. Beth, i wonder a lot about poets, you know? ... well, about artists of the Avant-Garde, too. do you see common traits amongst poets? like, are they all wine drinkers or rock collectors or people who barely made it through childhood? what does your observational radar say? and talk to me please about future aspirations.
Well, I drink wine and collect rocks, but I skated through childhood. Ha! I don’t know if there’s any one behavior I can isolate as being a poet thing; then again, a poet friend will tell me what they did that day and I will think “of course that is what you did, because you’re a poet.” I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently and haven’t arrived at a conclusion. Introversion is a possible commonality. To be a poet, I think you’ve got to be comfortable spending a lot of time with your own thoughts. Finally ... My fantasty life is teaching creative writing in a university/college setting and continuing my own writing and publishing. Wouldn’t that be delicious?
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