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Sandra Moser is the host of Poetry Live where she features podcasts of performance poetry as read by the authors. She lives in Rainier, Oregon. David Blaine: I’m excited to finally speak with you, Sandra. I have a very real interest in how you feel about listening to poetry, as opposed to reading it off paper or the screen. Sandra Moser: It isn't an either/or with me; when it comes to poetry, I want both the visual and auditory stimuli.
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DB: I have a sales background, and early on I learned that my customers fell into different categories when it came to communications. Some were primarily sound oriented; they wanted to hear what I had to say. Others were visually oriented and wanted to see what I had to show them. Those were the ones that loved to look at the sales brochures. Then there were the tactile folks. They didn’t so much want to see the brochures as grab and hold them. Anyway, I discovered that I was primarily an aurally tuned fellow myself. SM: Yes, I discovered the same principles apply to teaching others: the auditory, kinesthetic and visual. I'm primarily visual (the other two methods are close seconds though). DB: In composing poems I pay a lot of attention to the line, because that is what makes poetry poetry. But when someone gets all wound up in line breaks and stanzas, I tell them, “Look, when I read it aloud, you’re just going to hear the poem, not the stanza and line breaks.” SM: I have to laugh. One complaint by British poets is Americans don't know how to read aloud poetry. Yet it should be just as you have described; while structure is important in composition, the form is not spoken or heard during a reading. The structure guides the lone reader by subtle indications of emphasis. DB: When I’m editing I find that reading out loud definitely helps me choose what to drop and what to hold on to. SM: I have a small recorder, about the size of a lighter or a tube of lipstick; when I'm composing a poem, I feel I am too close to the words, so I'll record it and play back. Hearing a voice outside of my head, albeit my own, certainly helps. DB: Well, let’s find out about your roots, When did you first notice you enjoyed poetry, and when did you first decide to write it? How old were you? SM: My grandmother read to us, my brother and me, when we were young (ages five and under). Often the material she read was juvenile literature, including poetry. As far as writing, it wasn't a decision, per se. Poetry slipped under my pen in 2001, at age 30. Due to life events, I was unable to focus on complex story writing. I wrote nonfiction as part of my job, but that wasn't completely fulfilling. I began to write short pieces of poetry and study the form in more detail. DB: You told me about hearing Rita Ott Ramstad read her poetry, and how that returned your ear for poetry. What were you returning to? Can you tell me when you first developed an ear for poetry? Do you remember any specific event or events? SM: Not returning, but retuning my ear for poetry. My ear for poetry was underdeveloped until the live readings by Rita Ott Ramstad and Marilyn Johnston in the spring of 2004. Everything I understood about poetry brightened, like turning up the brightness and contrast on a darkened computer screen. No longer squinting into dimly lit scenes, I was envisioning and hearing the intention of the author, aware of intonation and how the poet manipulated the visual cues to help the lone reader comprehend the cadence of the voiceless poem. DB: In school, did you have to read poetry aloud? Are there any classic poets you are fond of, or who you might credit with your initial delve into the art? SM: You know, I can't recall myself reading poetry aloud in a classroom setting. I was, and am, a withdrawn sort of individual. I'll stop there before I paint myself cliché. I don't credit anyone in particular as an influence. Classic poets…I'm not a huge fan of one author or another, but specific poems come to mind. I suppose May Sarton, whose writing a co-worker encouraged me to read, would be a writer whose life resonates with me. Elizabeth Bishop's "One Art." And e.e. cummings, as eccentric as he was; I love "Maggie, Milly, Molly and May," the simple truth of it. DB: Do you think that there’s any irony in poets speaking about finding their voices, and then going out and looking for a book deal? As opposed to going to readings? SM: Yes and no. Small presses can be run by anyone, everyone—a poet is able to "create" a small press label and self-publish her or himself under the banner of a small press. To me, a book deal (especially a chapbook deal) doesn't signify what it used to. As always, the work has to speak for itself no matter the method of delivery. I'd say the ironic twist is how little interest most poets show in the growth work of their peers. The poet wants the attention and blessings of those persons he or she reveres, yet there is a single-mindedness, an unwillingness to part with precious time—without compensation—for those who revere the poet. And while a reading tour is great for some poets, others would rather be writing and supporting the craft of fellow poets. Better than a book deal, reading tour or a clique is having at least one informed key person who can and does tell you the truth about your writing. Of course, this does little good unless you can be honest with yourself. If you can't, no amount of constructive criticism will reach you where you write. DB: You mentioned that after you bought audio discs, you found the printed poems and read as you listened. You said it helped you learn things you don’t think you could have learned any other way. When you read off paper, do you hear a voice in your head? Do you think that you “listen” as you read off paper, or the screen? SM: If I know the author's voice, I hear her or his voice reading the poem with, for me. For unfamiliar poets, I hear my own voice. I am listening with more than a mental ear; I am such a visual person that often I find myself watching the author's images from a short way off, completely empathetic. DB: I’d like to bend our discussion a bit now to the “who” of your preferences. As you know, our group is called The Guild of Outsider Writers, and we’re not talking about hunting and fishing. Do you often receive material from unknown poets? Unknown to you and also, pretty much unknown to the rest of the world? SM: Oh, but I like fishing! Of the listed poems on Poetry Live, I personally know only one of the authors. Some of the poets are completely unknown, without even a Web presence. Others are established writers with a following. It isn't the poet I'm concerned with, but the poem itself. The recordings do not include the text of the poems, unfortunately. DB: I was surprised to hear that you haven’t received many submissions that you had to decline. That’s great, but have you received any submissions that really shocked you, because they were so good, and the artist was absolutely unknown? SM: I don't receive as many submissions as a lit zine. Often people can't get over the way their voice sounds when recorded. Another drawback is technical knowledge; many poets aren't technically inclined and have no idea how to record an MP3 or MP4 file. Some aren't sure whether they have a microphone. Fewer submissions result in fewer rejections. The diversity of poetic form and subject material we can absorb would be impossible without the Internet. And there is so much poetry, not all of it richly layered, that finding something startling can be time consuming. People want to be heard. The poems on Poetry Live do have a certain nod about them. It is difficult to be shocked though; these are strangers. I accept what the poems are without the need for comparison or contrast with an expectation because the recorded poems are not in the larger context of a poet's work. Sometimes a poet sends me several poems from which to choose. I like that. One usually stands out for me. DB: You write that thousands of people visit your site to download the podcasts. What do you think that says about state of the art for poetry today? I mean, I think that many online lit journals would be crazy jealous for that kind of readership. SM: The readership isn't quite apples-to-apples in comparison. DB: Exactly my point. The listeners wouldn’t necessarily come to your site if the poems were only in print. In fact I think it’s a given that they wouldn’t. SM: We are a visual and auditory society, for the most part. Providing poetry in the same form as music, the immediacy and privacy of it, it's keeping up with the age in which we live. Give poetry a new voice, a digital form—you're meeting the consumer where he or she already lives. Poetry fits into the public's lifestyles if you're paying attention and giving the public what they want and how they want it. There are other digital options; podcasting is not the single source. Some poetry is digital interaction, a presentation, for example, or a movie. The drawback to performance poetry is that the public then expects all poetry to be performed or interactive. Not all poetry can be performed, either by the author or through some other means. DB: I think that you’ve hit on something there. The public at large holds a narrow view of poetry. The art form is at least as broad in spectrum as music or film, and expecting poetry to flow from a homogenized jug, like milk, seems rather shallow. So, you’ve found something there is a thirst for. Have you found a way to make a buck off it yet? Are you able to compensate the artists for their work in any way? SM: I don't believe it will ever make a buck. There are too many free forms of poetry, good and not so, on the Internet. The key is to prevent it from costing a buck. Many e‑zines discover that simply posting a donation link to PayPal doesn't begin to cover costs and hours spent. And I do not apply for grants. At this time in my life, I can afford to dedicate time to Poetry Live. Paying the artists is an ideal that, as yet, I haven't reached; however, this form of poetry does generate more traffic to author sites where a poet's reading schedule may be listed, as well as books for sale. DB: Why poetry? What do you think poetry offers for the twenty first person citizen of this world? SM: Poetry offers now what it has always offered: A pause within perspective. DB: Thanks, it’s been fun. Visit Poetry Live Last update : 08-10-2007 17:15
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