TCE: Photographers often take photos at the “edge of change.” For instance, dark/light, forest/
meadow, water/stone. When you consider the edges of seasons, and the contrasts from one to the next, what contrast excites you most? Ken Pobo: The change from winter to spring excites me most. It isn’t like a play where the curtain falls and a new act begins. It’s more subtle, less certain, a day-to-day struggle. Winter has some virtues. Some days I like the cold. When snow first falls, I love the whiteness. But winter feels like a guest at a party who doesn’t see you putting out the lights and yawning. I feel this acutely, because gardening is so important to me. After months of minimal blossoms except for plants in our bay window, such as the calamondin orange and the Meyer lemon, and an amazing phalaenopsis orchid that went 9 months in constant bloom, I’m more than ready for spring to come. We have a farmer’s market a couple miles down the road. The day they get their first plants is a reason to celebrate. Pansies, welcome, welcome! Note to crocuses: don’t skimp on your deep purple. The sky, too, affects me. Here in southeastern Pennsylvania, many winter days are gray and tiring. Spring brings more light. Blue starts chipping into gray. Every day I go out, checking for green or some sign of growth — changes in the garden routinely appear in my poems. My desk overlooks Barren Road, so the edges of spring/winter are apparent each day, from leaves dashing away from the maple, to the sudden yellow hope in March when our winter jasmine flowers above the remaining snow.
TCE: Does your muse visit more frequently during any particular season? KP: My muse (or muses, why have just one?) does have a favorite season — summer. That’s because school is done and I am home more. My writing rhythms aren’t interrupted as often. This creates opportunity for the muse. I prefer a good chunk of time to write, and I can more easily carve out parts of the day. Summer has so many thrilling things in bloom, so when I visit with the garden, poems often come. If I’m writing and get stuck, I usually go outside. It clears my head. I do feel a little spoiled by summer (despite my loathing of hot weather and bugs); it’s great to wake up in the morning and have a cup of coffee — the silence before the day begins gets the writing off to a good start. In other seasons, I’m often too busy for the same kind of contemplation. I need to work on that, poke more airholes into my schedule.
TCE: Are the ideas for your poems snowflakes — no 2 alike? Or are they kaleidoscopic patterns: crystals of thought shifting in varying degrees to reflect the illusion of difference?
Mini-Interview: Pobo
KP: Yes, I see them all as snowflakes, none the same, though readers may disagree. Some patterns are similar. Ideas sometimes come to me like flakes falling. I can get ideas any time, but the best time is when my butt’s in the chair and I start writing — ideas come, in the act. Also, if I’m working on a longer poetry project — a related-series of poems — the more I write, the more I see what I need to do. I can’t fully think it through in advance. Of course, snowflakes often melt. Their perfection has a tiny shelf-life. And many of my drafts end up melting away. Or are delete-keyed.
TCE: January is marked by several rituals around the world. The French give gifts on New Year’s Day. th
Roman Christians celebrate Epiphany, the 12 Day of Christmas, with joyous rituals. Across the U.S., citizens honor Martin Luther King, Jr., the slain civil-rights visionary, with parades, speeches, and services of remembrance. What are your January writing-rituals? KP: January’s a great relief from December: Christmas and New Year’s Eve are over. We usually take the tree down (yes, we still get a ―real‖ one) in very early January. I like the tree, but after the holidays I’m more than ready to move on; we don’t celebrate any religious holidays. January’s when I take 2 of our 3 cats (Bailey & Belle) to the vet for their annual check-ups. They don’t enjoy this and neither do I. School starts again in mid-January, so the second half of the month is busy with work. The first half offers the pleasures of home — time to write, to play with the cats, time with Stan. It’s usually too cold out to do much outdoors, so the house becomes even more a world of its own. My writing rituals aren’t that different in January or any other month. Sit. Observe. Read. Think. Do it.
TCE: January gives us a fresh start, often manifested in the making of resolutions. Have you ever made a New Year’s resolution involving your writing?
KP: Never. I don’t make resolutions at all and don’t intend to start. Resolutions can get bound up with guilt. I’d rather keep writing and revising and hope that something good comes of it. January starts getting some really rockin’ grapefruits. Oh happy, happy day. I don’t ―resolve‖ to eat them. A dreary gray sky, wind slapping the window glass — and a tart grapefruit reminding me that winter has some really fabutastic pleasures.