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PROFILE As a girl, she wrote – she kept journals, wrote prose and gradually turned to poetry. Recently an old friend of hers found the literary journal in which her first poem was published. She was in junior high school and hopelessly in love with a boy, and used another well-known poet as an inspiration, composing a piece that was ―corny beyond corny. That was the turning point,‖ she says, ―that love poem.‖ As a young wife and mother, she was very close to her own mother. She spent a great deal of time sharing her poetry with her before she died. But she wasn‘t going to readings and getting her own work out to a broader community. ―When my mother died, this happened,‖ Spungin says. ―A friend and I started going to poetry readings, which I do now several times a week. And when I got a computer, the monster was released. These things would just come out; from my brain to my fingers.‖ She tells me she writes at night, before she goes to bed. ―The joy comes when I feel – well, I don‘t know what‘s coming. I touch-type, and I close my eyes and whatever emotion is in there comes out. I don‘t open my eyes and reread it as I type.‖ I love the way she describes her writing process. I can just imagine it in my mind‘s eye. Rich, I think to myself; this woman lets the nuggets in there form themselves. When she realized that people responded to her poetry and were interested in hearing her read, she tells me she was rather amazed. She says, ―It was a Sally Field moment, you know? Like when Sally Field received the Academy Award for her starring role in Norma Rae, and she stood up there and she said ‗You like me? You really like me?‘‖ Such a revealing thing to share; I remember she told me that her favorite line in the poem she sent me that she wrote in preparation for our talking on the telephone was ―My poems are coded truths.‖ There exists in her work an endearing quality that blends a certain tenuousness or doubt with confidence and the vigor of a writer who has hit a glorious stride. I savor the moment and smile with her; such candor 76

SPIRACLE JOURNAL Volume I Issue No. 1  

Re. In. Vent.

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