
Poet Vincent Katz has published a new collection, 'Daffodil: And Other Poems,' with meditative poems on the intersections between nature and the Big Apple.
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Alison Stewart
This is all of it on wnyc. I'm Alison Stewart. If you have seen daffodils peeking up through the ground, you know that spring is here. Hold on. Little flowers during this cold spell. It is the season that poet Vincent Katz has mined for inspiration for his new poetry collection called Daffodil. It's the first poem in his new book. We'll hear him read that in just a moment. But on the back of collection there's a message. It says, surely there was and is still someone close. And that continues as animals, despite war, despite incursions, continue. New York is a place of return where we're aware of faces and other things. There or in a field of flowers, in places in the distant past and present, love has some inexorable way of continuing. The poems range from cicadas to city birds, from New York staples like the band the Strokes to trips to the Met. The book is dedicated to his parents, his mother, Ada, and his father, the renowned artist Alex Katz. Poet Vincent Katz is with me now in studio. His new poetry collection is called Daffodil and Other Poems. Welcome to the studio.
Vincent Katz
Thank you.
Pleased to be here.
Alison Stewart
We would love to hear the poem Daffodils.
Vincent Katz
Sure.
I'll start out with that daffodil.
If I imagine all time sequestered in the fold of a daffodil, close to the desire of sitting next to someone. It's like a trip uptown and then one downtown and my door is open.
To the revenge of snow Clasp me as a trumpet seeks release.
I should see daydreams in eyes all aflutter and simplified down the stores and all the other places we settle down to.
Alison Stewart
Why did you want that to be the first poem?
Vincent Katz
It's a good question. Well, that's an unusual poem for me in that it is closely modeled on another poet's poem. I don't usually do that. I usually just write off the top of my head. But this poem is based on a poem called Music by Frank O'Hara, and it's the first poem in his collection Lunch Poems. And I was just really. I was reading a lot of the poet James Schuyler rereading his books. In particular and this book, Lunch Poems, I read constantly and think about as not only the poems in it, but the collection, the way it's sequenced, and also what's written on the back of the book. So this poem, Daffodil. Yeah, I wanted it to be the first poem, in a way, in response to his poem Music. And also, unusually for me, this poem responds to some of his lines. So if you compare them, you'll notice a couple of phrases in common or in reference.
Unknown Speaker
Well, when you do get an idea.
Alison Stewart
For a poem, what is your process.
Unknown Speaker
For flushing it out? You're walking down the street, you have an idea, what happens next.
Vincent Katz
I often write the whole thing in one, say, half an hour period. Yeah, I'm a big fan of not editing too much. I was influenced by the idea that this famous quote that William Shakespeare never blotted a word, which is apparently not entirely true. But Frank O'Hara also was famous for, well, writing some poems in the Olivetti showroom. He would go into this showroom, and there would be typewriters there, and he'd type a poem. So I like that idea of just writing it in one sitting, so to speak. And so I'll have my notebook with me. I'll be on the street or somewhere, and I try to edit it in my head, so to speak. I kind of go a little slowly, think of the exact words I want to use. And then later, I might change a couple of things, but not too much.
Unknown Speaker
So it can happen anywhere. It doesn't have to happen in your writing space.
Vincent Katz
I prefer to be among other people, actually. Yeah, I prefer to work with kind of noise and chaos around me. If things are too quiet, I can't really concentrate.
Unknown Speaker
People have gotten used to being, hold on a minute. I got to write something in the middle of a party.
Alison Stewart
How often are you writing?
Vincent Katz
Well, so the latter part of this book, Daffodil, was a period in which I was writing in my notebook almost every day. I wanted to have a process where I was really not editing myself in advance. Like, I wasn't really thinking, well, is this a good moment for a poem? Because a lot of times I do. I'm sort of. I don't ever feel I have to write a poem until there's the moment when I feel I have to write a poem right now. That's usually how I am. But in this period instead, I was thinking, you know what? I'm gonna just try to write every day whatever is going on around me. And if that seems like it's not Worthy of a poem. So be it. And I'll see what happens later. So the second half of this book was that process, which was a little different.
Alison Stewart
The book is divided into a series of. I think it's five sections. A Slight Breeze, Species Again on the Avenue, Once in a Field for Love. Why did you have the five sections of the book?
Vincent Katz
So partially because. So these poems were written basically between 2020 and 2023. So a number of them were written in the early phase of the pandemic, before there was a vaccine. And my parents are elderly and they have a place in the country. So we said, let's just move out.
There for a while. And so I started to write a.
Lot of poems about animals. The title of each poem was the.
Name of an Animal.
And I showed them to my editor, Deborah Garrison, and she. And we were working on it. It was very early stages. We were working on a manuscript. And then later I thought, oh, no, I can't. I don't like those poems. They're not like what I write. I write on the street, and this seems too country for me. And we took them out and then. Anyway, we had various discussions and then we brought them back in. But then there seemed to be. They just fell into sections. It was like this section of New York City before this lockdown period. There was a lockdown period in the country that was coming back to New York. Yeah. And then For Love just sort of evolved on its own.
Alison Stewart
My guest is Vincent Katz for speaking about his new poetry collection, Daffodil and Other Poems. He's reading selections from the book let's. Here you read the cicadas. This is on the section Species. This is the one you wrote about snakes and rabbits and snapping turtles.
Vincent Katz
That's right. The cicadas.
Like crickets. Cicadas will always be part of my inner mind. Their sound so ancient, drawing our psyches.
Back down centuries paths.
Birds too, but they always seem to.
Have an individual song.
Cicadas join in collective hum Rising in.
Power as the day nearing its end seems to rise they push and turn it Chorus of lasting effect Crickets provide oral carpet.
Cicadas another.
Crickets blanket the earth. Cicadas cry from trees.
Alison Stewart
What was the origin of that poem?
Vincent Katz
Kind of as it says in the poem? I've always loved cicadas. There's something. I associate them in my mind with certain places I've been. Italy, for example. They just sort of typify to me a long summer afternoon. It's that sound. And I'm also very interested in things that we can hear and see that are not on our phones. So it's a natural vibratory sound, like a musical instrument. They make it in a way. Like in a way that musical instruments make vibrations also by rubbing, you know, this kind of drum in their body, the cicadas. Also, I was interested in the I don't talk about it in this poem, but I wrote another poem about a species of cicada that stays underground for 17 years and then comes up and is born. So that was on my mind also. It was around the same time.
Alison Stewart
My guest is Vincent Katz. We're speaking about his new poetry collection called Daffodil and Other Poems. We'll have more after a quick break.
Unknown Speaker
This is all of it.
Alison Stewart
This is all of it on wnyc. I'm Alison Stewart. My guest is poet Vincent Katz. We're speaking about his new poetry collection, Daffodil and Other Poems. April is National Poetry Month. We've been celebrating it on the show. What do you remember about why you got into poetry?
Vincent Katz
Well, I was surrounded by poetry as a child. I grew up, as you mentioned. My father is a painter and my parents knew a number of poets, including Frank O'Hara, whom I mentioned earlier, who made a big impact on me even as a kid. He was just very vibrant. And, yeah, these poets were very accessible. They weren't kind of like these lofty figures who went into their rooms to write. They were around and about. And one of them, Kenwood Elmsley, actually, he saw that I was bored at a party once, and he said, come with me to my room.
And.
And he put a piece of paper in his typewriter and he said, okay, I'm going to type whatever you say. And I said, what do you want me to say? And he typed, what do you want me to say? And I realized it was kind of a game and it was really fun. And then when we were done, he pulled it out and just gave me the paper and walked away. So I realized that poetry could be something really, well, social, for one thing, among people and also enjoyable. And another thing was reading these books and magazines, poetry journals that my parents had around the house. A lot of the language was very accessible to me, even as a kid, and I liked that. I thought, oh, that seems like fun. Why don't I just write something like that? So I wrote these very minimalist things as a kid. Like November 26, 1967, I got up and watched TV.
Alison Stewart
I also love that for you, poets were real people walking around, visiting your house, being Your parents, friends. Yeah, that's gotta be a huge difference.
Vincent Katz
It was nice.
And a lot of them were quite young.
I remember, you know, how kids often think, like, numerically, And I remember thinking, I'm five and Joe Brainerd is 25, which was just like a thought of a kid. But when I think of it now, I think, oh, my God, Joe Brainerd was so young.
Alison Stewart
Yeah, yeah. When did it become a vocation for you?
Vincent Katz
I mean, I got serious about it in high school because I started. Then I started to actually go to poetry readings at the Poetry Project, mainly in the East Village and other places around town. And, you know, I'd hear people like John Ashberry read at NYU or at the Donell Library. And then I had this little group of friends who were also interested in poetry. So we were kind of looking to the generation or two above us, and they were doing something that got known as the mimeo revolution, because they could publish these journals, they called them magazines, very cheaply on a mimeograph machine and get it out, like in two weeks. So you'd have a. We called it a book of poetry in two weeks. And we thought we could do that, you know, technically. And so we started to try to emulate them. And, yeah, I mean, we got pretty serious. We were writing poetry, showing each other our poems, initial poems. And then after that, I think the next thing that happened to me was I went to college and I studied. I majored in classics, basically Ancient Greek and Latin literature. And that was a whole. I got hooked on that also. And by then, yeah, it all kind of fit together. Ancient poetry and very contemporary poetry. And it was something I wanted to do.
Unknown Speaker
Let's have you read another poem.
Vincent Katz
Sure.
Alison Stewart
This is called Spring Opening Near Bethesda Fountain. We'll have to think a little bit warmer, but it's good to think about.
Vincent Katz
Let's hear right around Vincent Katz this time. Spring Opening near Bethesda Fountain. I've arrived at this spot, A rocky.
Outcrop with two cherries in bloom nearby. And the entire park is blooming finally.
With that pent up energy that says.
Life can begin again.
Even that life from so long ago.
Other springs with other adorations. The desire to move up and through whatever is happening to some higher state.
Of mind shared possibly with one or a group that would be determined later.
A glowing desire filling the heart and other bodies nearby similarly involved in books.
With kids or each other. The telephone peeling off layers and turning.
The pressure taken off the squatting ankles.
One sits facing the sun now birds making music, little dog yaps. Occasionally people sit in sun or shade.
I try to feel the smell of.
Earth that is eternal or the breeze that blows again in this day, even with so much suffering going on, facing the future, feeling what could be given there or found to partake of this opening of feeling this spring.
Alison Stewart
That's Vincent Katz reading his poem. You know, we've had other poets on the show, especially this month, and we hear from listeners who say they love hearing poems and hearing you read poems, but they want to get more out of it. Like, they love hearing the words, they love hearing the poetry, but it can be challenging when they think I'm supposed to be getting something more out of it. What advice would you have for listeners as they are listening to poetry and reading poetry?
Vincent Katz
Well, I think a big part of.
It is actually hearing poetry read aloud. So, for example, there have been poets whose work I haven't really gotten. Just reading it in the book, like, it seems okay, but then I go to hear them read, and all of a sudden it's like, oh, I get it. And that getting it continues. It's like, once I've gotten it, then I can go back to read their books and I hear their voice again. So I think it's really important. And we have such an opportunity now, just not only in person, if you're in a place like New York, which has a lot of readings, but also just in recordings. I mean, there are many available online. And I feel like it's. Yeah, that to me, is a big.
Part of the meaning of a poem.
Is just the sound of it in terms of what you're getting out of it. I think of poetry a lot like music. Like, you can read the same poem multiple times, where you wouldn't necessarily do that with a novel. You might read it twice or something like that. But a poem you can read many times, and I feel like it's a little different each time.
So what you're supposed to get out.
Of it, you know, I wouldn't worry about that. I would just try to enjoy it, really enjoy the feelings that it brings up and enjoy or just experience. They're not always enjoyable, but they're. I think they're important because they're part of the poet's experience that they're sharing with the listener or reader.
Alison Stewart
I write a lot of bad poetry. I will say, what advice would you give to someone like me who wants to write it, who's trying to write it, knows it's not great, but would.
Vincent Katz
Like it to be Better again, living in New York City or a city.
Or even online these days. There are a lot of poetry writing workshops. So you like them.
The poetry project at St. Mark's Church.
I recommend they have workshops going on all the time. And they just do very surprising things, like they'll say, you know, write something and then, you know, change every word to the next word in the dictionary or something like that. I don't know. They give you, you know, operations and tricks to get you out of your accustomed patterns. Because I think we all feel like, oh, a poem is supposed to be such and such, whatever that is in our mind, if it's rhyming or even not rhyming, but you know, something. And I feel like a workshop can be really good because the workshop leader usually has these ways of, you know, unlocking you to write differently.
And then also you're with a group.
Of people, too, and they're all doing it. And I think it can be enjoyable to hear other people's work and share your own.
Alison Stewart
You have to leave your ego at the door, though. In a workshop.
Vincent Katz
You do.
Yeah, it's true.
Alison Stewart
My guest is poet Vincent Katz. His new book is called Daffodil and Other Poems. Let's here you read Pandemic park poem. You mentioned this earlier, and we can talk about it on the other side.
Vincent Katz
Okay, here we go.
Pandemic park poem. I've always wanted to sit on this bench. Now is the perfect temperature and time. Hardly anyone in the park this Thursday evening. The scent of marijuana being smoked by two gentle souls on a nearby bench wafts over, creating a congenial vibe. Two young women huddle together on the grass, their dinner in a paper bag nearby. They must be sharing something that can't be shared by anyone else. Two squirrels chase each other down a slender trunk in a burst of speed. Are they in love or fighting over food? There's a guy shirtless, in shorts on his phone, and someone crashed out on the bench next to him. A trio has spread out a blanket taken off masks and is beginning to share their dinner. More people coming in, drizzle starting to fall lightly. Two buildings stand out in the distance.
Unknown Speaker
This poem puts us in such a place and such a moment in time. Right, everybody? You can read it 10 years, but you can remember when this poem would be written. Yes, the pandemic. Not sure if you take off the mask even outside. This may sound odd, but what did the pandemic offer you creatively?
Vincent Katz
I mean, part of it was to.
Spend all that time in the country.
Which is different and you know, to folk, to write differently, to write about animals.
But the other part in the city.
I mean, in a way, I feel like I'm a. I don't know what you'd say, like a cameraman or something. Like I'm just observing what is around me in some sense, but I'm also processing it and filtering it through myself. But a lot of it is what I'm seeing. So, you know, it turns out to be about the pandemic. But I'm. I'm still seeing, you know, the squirrels. There's this nature element in it. And I also, just reading it now, what occurred to me is the repetition of the word bench and the kind of the significance of like, what that brings to mind, like benchmark or, you know. Yeah, like a setting, a time setting or a limit. Also in the other, in the Bethesda park poem, I like that the last word is spring, which is the season, but it's also like a spring of water or spring of emotion. So I'm trying to, you know, hopefully subtly put those word words in that have multiple meanings while seeming very casual at the same time.
Unknown Speaker
At poets.org, a lot of the poems are about uncertain times or poetry for uncertain times. Why is poetry good during uncertain times?
Vincent Katz
I feel like people go to poetry in difficult times and uncertain times for a sense of solace because I feel like the best poems are not really trying to change reality. I mean, they know that they can't, but they're accepting it, they're taking note of it. And I feel like this feeling of acceptance, but also observation is important for people. And we all get that from poems. And so I feel like in difficult times also, there's something that seems, in a good poem, there's something that seems eternal to it. The way it's structured, the rhythms, even the lines, the way it looks on the page. And I feel like that can be comforting.
Alison Stewart
My guest has been Vincent Katz. We are speaking about his poetry collection, Daffodil and Other Poems. Thank you so much for joining us.
Vincent Katz
Thank you for having me. It's been a pleasure.
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Podcast Summary: "Odes to the Daffodil, and Other Poems For A New York Spring"
Podcast Information
[00:39 - 01:46]
Alison Stewart introduces Vincent Katz, a renowned poet, discussing his latest poetry collection titled Daffodil and Other Poems. She highlights the inspiration behind the collection, noting its dedication to his parents, Ada and the esteemed artist Alex Katz. The conversation sets the stage for an in-depth exploration of Vincent's work and creative process.
[01:51 - 02:29]
Vincent Katz begins by reading the titular poem, "Daffodils," which serves as the opening piece of his collection. The poem intertwines themes of nature and personal connection, reflecting on the enduring presence of love and memory amidst the changing seasons of New York City.
Vincent Katz [01:56]: "If I imagine all time sequestered in the fold of a daffodil, close to the desire of sitting next to someone."
[02:29 - 07:18]
Alison inquires about Vincent's choice to place "Daffodils" as the first poem in his collection. Vincent explains that the poem is uniquely modeled after Frank O'Hara's "Music" from Lunch Poems. This homage marks a departure from his usual spontaneous writing, as it directly references and responds to O'Hara's work. Vincent shares his admiration for poets like James Schuyler and the influence of the mimeo revolution on his early poetic endeavors.
Vincent Katz [02:34]: "This poem is based on a poem called Music by Frank O'Hara, and it's the first poem in his collection Lunch Poems."
[03:32 - 06:09]
Exploring his creative methodology, Vincent discusses his preference for writing poems in a single sitting, often within thirty minutes, without extensive editing. Influenced by Frank O'Hara's practice of writing in the Olivetti showroom, Vincent values capturing the initial flow of ideas. He thrives in environments with ambient noise, believing that chaos fuels his creativity.
Vincent Katz [03:37]: "I often write the whole thing in one, say, half an hour period. Yeah, I'm a big fan of not editing too much."
[06:09 - 07:18]
Vincent elaborates on the organization of his poetry collection, which is divided into five sections. These sections reflect different phases of his life between 2020 and 2023, including the early pandemic period. Initial drafts focused on animals, inspired by his time in the countryside with his elderly parents, but evolved to incorporate urban themes and personal reflections. The sections naturally segmented into phases representing New York City life before and after lockdowns, culminating in themes of love.
Vincent Katz [06:09]: "There seemed to be... this section of New York City before this lockdown period. There was a lockdown period in the country that was coming back to New York."
[07:18 - 08:27]
Vincent presents "Cicadas," a poem from the "Species" section of his collection, which portrays the relentless presence of cicadas and their symbolic connection to nature and memory.
Vincent Katz [07:54]: "Their sound so ancient, drawing our psyches back down centuries paths."
[08:31 - 09:26]
Alison asks about the inspiration behind "Cicadas." Vincent shares his fascination with the natural sounds that exist beyond digital interruptions, likening cicadas to musical instruments. He also touches on the life cycle of a particular cicada species, which remains underground for 17 years before emerging, paralleling themes of endurance and renewal in his poetry.
Vincent Katz [08:54]: "They make it in a way... like musical instruments make vibrations also by rubbing."
[09:35 - 12:04]
Vincent delves into his early exposure to poetry, influenced heavily by his painter father and poet connections like Frank O'Hara. He recounts a memorable experience with poet Kenwood Elmsley, which solidified his appreciation for the social and playful aspects of poetry. His upbringing in an environment rich with accessible poetry fostered his initial forays into minimalist writing during childhood.
Vincent Katz [10:05]: "I thought, oh, that seems like fun. Why don't I just write something like that?"
[13:35 - 15:02]
Vincent reads "Spring Opening Near Bethesda Fountain," a poem capturing the essence of spring in New York's Bethesda Park, emphasizing renewal and the sensory experiences of the season.
Vincent Katz [13:58]: "I've arrived at this spot, A rocky outcrop with two cherries in bloom nearby."
[15:22 - 17:17]
Alison addresses listeners' desire to derive more meaning from poetry. Vincent emphasizes the importance of hearing poems read aloud, likening poetry to music where repetition reveals deeper layers with each reading. He encourages listeners to enjoy the emotional journey poems offer without the pressure of extracting a definitive meaning.
Vincent Katz [16:32]: "The sound of it in terms of what you're getting out of it is a big part of the meaning of a poem."
[17:17 - 18:38]
When asked about writing poetry, Vincent advises participation in writing workshops, such as those offered by the Poetry Project at St. Mark's Church. These workshops provide creative exercises that help poets break free from conventional patterns and foster a collaborative environment where sharing and feedback are integral.
Vincent Katz [17:35]: "I recommend they have workshops going on all the time. They just do very surprising things."
[18:56 - 20:10]
Vincent presents "Pandemic Park Poem," which vividly captures the solitude and unique moments experienced in a park during the COVID-19 pandemic. The poem juxtaposes natural elements with human behaviors altered by the pandemic.
Vincent Katz [19:06]: "I've always wanted to sit on this bench. Now is the perfect temperature and time."
[20:10 - 22:12]
Alison and Vincent discuss how the pandemic influenced his creativity. Vincent describes his role as an observer and interpreter of his surroundings, noting the interplay between nature and urban life in his work. He underscores the significance of subtle wordplay and multiple meanings in his poetry, striving for casual yet profound expression.
Vincent Katz [20:46]: "I'm just observing what is around me in some sense, but I'm also processing it and filtering it through myself."
[22:12 - 23:06]
Vincent articulates why poetry holds particular resonance during tumultuous periods. He believes that poetry offers solace through acceptance and observation rather than attempting to alter reality. The inherent structure and rhythm of poems provide a sense of permanence and comfort amidst chaos.
Vincent Katz [22:12]: "The best poems are not really trying to change reality... they're accepting it, they're taking note of it."
[23:06 - 23:19]
Alison wraps up the interview, thanking Vincent Katz for sharing insights into his poetic journey and his evocative collection, Daffodil and Other Poems. The segment underscores the enduring power of poetry to capture and reflect the human experience.
Notable Quotes:
Key Takeaways:
This episode of "All Of It" offers listeners a profound dive into Vincent Katz's poetic world, blending personal anecdotes with thoughtful discussions on the role of poetry in culture and society.