Interview With Eliot

Please read this interview published in Long Story Short. The interviewer is poetry editor Gloria Pimentel.

Q. Eliot, I understand you started writing poetry at a young age. How old were you?
A. 15

Q. Why poetry?
A. I've always loved the "concreteness" of words-- the sounds, the rhythm, the structure, even the way syntax creates meaning. I had a high school teacher who knew how to tease with poetry in a way that made me want to dig in, read and re-read. He died a year ago and his widow found a few of my poems that he kept for 30 years and sent them to me.

Q. Would you say that your parents influenced your writing, much?
A. Only indirectly. My father was a reader, so I became a reader too. I always had books from the bookmobile. But because he was an alcoholic, my mother worked a lot as a way of escape. I found my own way-- a prep school away from home. Since I had no transportation, I took up hitchhiking. I carried a paperback book of poetry with me, One Hundred Modern Poems edited by Seldon Rodman. I still have the copy. My first poems were "road poems" written on napkins or whatever.

Q. Do you believe, poetry can be life changing and worth the emotional risk?
A. Poetry made me an observer, a divergent thinker, introspective, and a stranger. W.H. Auden wrote, "For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives... A way of happening, a mouth." I don't know if poetry is life-changing. Poetry speaks, some listen.

Emotional risk? Living is emotional risk. Poetry is a gift to the emotions. It is a way to learn how to articulate what we fear about life, what we love, what we loathe and why, what is poignant, ironic, disturbing.

Q. It is said that a poet sees life, objects, nature, under a different light, beyond the obvious, do you agree with such statement?
A. Poets must not only see beyond the obvious, but must also learn the words that communicate that vision so that others might see it too.

Q. How would you describe talent?
A.The term itself is a metaphor from Jesus' "Parable of the Ten Talents," which were pieces of money. I think that it is best to remember that talent is a gift, a coinage that we are allowed to mint from laboring and investing in our art.

Q. Do you think that, “A Song for the Children of Nakajo,” would have been as powerful a poem had you never visit those places?
A. Probably not, because the poem is rooted in a stranger's view of a particular culture and geography. It required a tension that arose from discovery and disorientation.

Q. What is the light within, “A Song for the Children of Nakajo?”
A. It is delight in the beauty of children.

Q. Who is your favorite poet and how did their work influence your writing?
A. Rather than one poet, I would say it was the moderns-- Robert Frost, Marianne Moore, W.H. Auden, T.S. Eliot, Hilda Doolittle, E.E. Cummings, Carl Sandburg.

Q. Would you say that, “Poetic Form,” redeems the inadequacies of ordinary life, its incompletion and dissatisfactions?
A. No, I would never say that-- it sounds too profound. But I would say that poets seek after order, and one of the things that good poetry does is create a form for meaning to flow through. "Ordinary life" is orderly life, and ordinary life can be celebrated and can be surprising and revealing. Life--ordinary and extraordinary-- is only incomplete and dissatisfying when we envy. I don't think poetic form is a cure for envy.

Q. When you are creating a poem, do you know specifically what you want to capture in words and form, right away, and with little hesitation?
A. Hardly ever. I have an idea, a sense of things, but my poems undergo considerable revision. They need to be crafted.

Q. Do you strive to bring to the reader a sense of proximity to what cannot be put into words?
A. Ah, a trick question. As a poet, I can only hope to bring the reader closer to what can be put into words. Words are the poets only tool.

Q. Do you see truth as a great adventure when you write?
A. Poetry makes the truth a little more disturbing. We often know what the truth is, but a good poem makes us sit up and take notice, solidifies the truth, compels us to acknowledge it as truth.

Q. If you could only give one piece of advice to writers, what would it be?
A. Rock your babies when they wake in the night, learn the warmth of them in the darkness, speak to them and listen to the sound of your own words.

Q. What was it like when your first poem was published? Do you recall your feelings?
A. I think that I stared a lot at the words on the page, started at the beginning of the book and turned the pages one by one to make sure it was still there.

Q. What is the most meaningful compliment you have received about your poetry?
A. "Read it again."

Q. If you were granted one wish concerning your poetry, what would you ask for?
A. That each poem would find its way to someone who needs it most.

Q. Regarding rejections, could you tell us, what is the best way to handle them?
A. Know your poetry well enough to know when to trust the rejection and when to trust the poem.

Q. What can you tell us about reading poetry?
A. Two absolutes: you must read the poem aloud and you must look up words that you don't know.

Q. Do you feel that a poet should constantly read poetry? Whether your answer is yes or no could you tell us why?
A. A poet should spend considerable time reading a variety of good poetry, because you have to learn the craft. But not so constantly that you become a mimic. Take breaks, even long breaks. Develop your own voice.

Q. Do you have plans to publish your first book of poems in the near future?
A. I'd like to find an illustrator to work with and take the plunge.

Eliot, I thank you for being a good sport and allowing me to interview you.