
As Poetry Month wraps up, poet Traci Brimhall speaks about some of her favorite poems for this moment.
Loading summary
Progressive Insurance Ad
All of it is supported by Progressive Insurance. Do you ever think about switching insurance companies to see if you could save some cash? Progressive makes it easy to see if you could save when you bundle your home and auto policies. Try it@progressive.com Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates. Potential savings will vary. Not available in all states.
Tracy Brimhall
Listener Supported WNYC Studios.
Alison Stewart
This is all of it on wnyc. I'm Alison Stewart. There is still time to get your tickets for this month's Get Lit with all of it event, which is happening next week. On May 6, we will be featuring the Dream Hotel by author Leila Lalame and she will be There'll be a performance for Moroccan musician Ima Ghanawa. To get your free tickets to that event and to find out how to borrow your E copy of the book, head to wnyc.org getlit that's in the future. Let's get this hour started with some poetry. We are near the end of National Poetry Month, and all April we've been observing the occasion by having poets read some of their work and favorite poems from other poets. Like we kicked it off with New York State Poet Laureate Willie Perdomo emphasize he emphasized the importance of the art form and what we learn about ourselves and each other from reading poetry. We spoke to Ricardo Maldonado, president and executive director of the Academy of American Poets, the organization behind the entire National Poetry Month. And then we talked to former Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith, who talked about sitting with a poem and allowing it to consume you. And then the 2024 winner of the Academy of American Poets First Book Award, Robin Wal. Discuss the beauty of nature and paying attention to the world around you. Now joining us today, we have incoming poet in residence at the Guggenheim Museum and Poet Laureate of Kansas, Tracy Brimhall. She's also currently a professor of English at Kansas State University and recently published the book of poems, Love Prodigal last year. Tracy, welcome to all of it.
Tracy Brimhall
Thank you for having me on, listeners.
Alison Stewart
We want to hear from you. What is your favorite poem? Who is a poet that you admire? What poet or poem do you especially like to lean on during uncertain times? Give us a call 2124-3396-9221-2433 WNYC. You can call us or you can text to us at that number or reach out via social media. LLNYC so earlier this month, Tracy, the Guggenheim Museum in New York announced you were the incumbent poet residence for 2025. First of all, where were you when you found out?
Tracy Brimhall
Well, they Sent me an email ahead of time that said we need to talk. And I was like, oh no, what did I do wrong in my application? So I ended up being in someplace quiet where I knew I could take a call on the following Monday and fretted about it over the weekend, and then tried to play it cool, but inside was deeply freaking out.
Alison Stewart
What does the title of poet in Residence for an art institution like the Guggenheim mean for you at this point in your career?
Tracy Brimhall
It is so exciting to be in a position to just dream up cool ideas for ways to bring poetry to people and activate a museum space with language. And then people are like, yeah, let's make that happen. I'm so used to a poet laureate position. Often it's you and your own initiative and your own energy resources and photocopy machine working to try and bring poetry to people. And so to have like a team of people who are excited about your ideas, who want to help iterate them and help bring interesting, cool, fun ways to engage with art and poetry to patrons is just like really, really exciting. And I'm so excited for this upcoming year and getting to travel to and from New York quite a bit to do some of this programming.
Alison Stewart
What sort of habits or rituals do you have when you are reading poetry?
Tracy Brimhall
Ooh, I think I try. Not in April, it doesn't happen because I'm so busy, but many mornings I try and just read a poem or two and usually find one that I want to hand copy in my. In a journal. I call it meditating in cursive because I find that reading it with my eyeballs does give me a certain sense of the poem. Reading it aloud changes what I think I understand about it. But reshaping the poem letter by letter and getting to know every choice and every word of course changes, you know, my sense of the poem and my relationship to the poem. So I really, I love doing that practice for myself and I always encourage others to do it as well, to get really connected and close to a poem in a different way. By hand copying something that you love.
Alison Stewart
Who are poets that you return to regularly?
Tracy Brimhall
I definitely still always go back to certain of my poetic ancestors and go back to the dead. I think the first time I started hand copying poems, I had poems. I started with Emily Dickinson, John Donne and Robert Frost. I think also those are how so many students maybe still are introduced to poetry is through our. Through our great dead who become familiar to us with those semi secrets they kind of whisper in poems. But now, I mean, I think the last poem I copied in my journal was by Danusha Lamaris, who is a Santa Cruz poet, living poet. I tend to find a lot of community and communion with writers I could possibly email if I ever followed up on that.
Alison Stewart
Yeah, let's talk to Ernest from the Bronx. Hi Ernest, thank you so much for calling us during National Poetry Month.
Ernest
Hello. Just want to say, first of all, I'm enjoying this topic and I'm enjoying your show. And one of my favorite poets is Langston Hughes.
Alison Stewart
What about Langston Hughes? Do you love?
Ernest
Oh yeah. I just like the way he related his life to some of his travels, like going to Africa and particularly relating to his time in Harlem. His time in Harlem. He stayed in Harlem. I like the relation there.
Alison Stewart
Ernest, thank you so much for calling us listeners. We'd love to hear from you. What's your Favorite poem or poet? 2124-3396-9221-2433-WNYC. You can call in and us on air or you can text us to us at that number or reach out via social media at Olive nyc. My guest is Tracy Brimhall, Poet Laureate of Kansas and incoming Poet in Residence at the Guggenheim Museum, helping us celebrate National Poetry Month. You've brought some of your poetry to read for us. This is an original. It's titled, I hope I say this correct, Stellar Parallax.
Tracy Brimhall
Yes. Which is so I'm a poet and my partner's a physicist. So many of our early dates were stargazing because poetry and physics doesn't overlap a ton. But a love of the stars is definitely a connection. But Stellar Parallax is this term for your sense of a star's position or how close or far away it is to you depends on where you're standing. And the poem kind of celebrates long distance relationship. And so that idea of how close the stars feel to us based on where we're standing was important to me as I wrote the poem. So here's the poem. Stellar Parallax. Even miles apart, we want to be close. So we step out onto cold concrete and call out constellations like vows if not holding each other than sharing the sky, the wind tugging at both of our shirts. If not marriage, then it's commitment to gravity, the difference between good enough and worth. Forgiving stars taught others myth and science and how to cross the sea. But we recite galaxies like a catechism on love at a distance. You call the quick flare a falling star, even though we both know it's a meteorite. If not forever, then the small lies that fill the silence with promises. My heart hangs upside down in my chest as you describe the telescope you've built the way you want to help me see the night more clearly, But I've always seen the calculated beauty of orbits, each celestial body separate from one another, as perfected by tension. If not bright as choir robes like Sirius, then Betelgeuse red as a fire's autobiography. I clutch the dark heat to my chest, Marry the memory to bone, if not feather or wing, then a bridge of lights to carry me to you. If not now, then someday. I disciple myself to the patient distances between the stars. Taste the enduring elegies and yes, keep burning no matter how far.
Alison Stewart
That was Tracy Brimhall, reading from her poem. Some of your initiatives as poet laureate of Kansas have centered on uniting the state's agricultural roots with the literary arts. It's really interesting. Why did the two. Why did that merge make sense to you?
Tracy Brimhall
Well, I think it kind of was born a little bit out of when we were all. During that COVID lockdown moment, I experienced some of the brain fuzziness that a lot of people reported at that time. I really struggled to write or feel like I could follow my own thoughts or complete a sentence. I just felt very hazy. So I started to journal at the end of each day, one moment from each of my five senses to try and, you know, stay a little bit locked into the each day and give the day a little bit of shape when things felt so murky. And so, of course, I would always start with flavor and taste because that was the. Presumably the easiest. I saw things all, all day long, but only ate a couple of things. And so I, you know, would go to what did I make for dinner? And then I would think about, like, gosh, what is that smell when onions hit the butter in the pan? And, like, what does that feel like, that papery covering of garlic? But then when you get that off, there's like this weird, interesting slipperiness of a garlic clove. And I found that all I needed to write about a whole day was just dinner. And what happened as I started to build that habit of journaling my five senses is that I would just take out a cutting board at night, and all of a sudden I was locked into the present tense. I was no longer thinking about my to do list or switching the laundry over or did I forget to pay a bill again because I can't think straight. I would just be utterly where I was, you know, organizing bell peppers by color and reading over my recipe and taking pleasure in the process and being, being exactly where I was. Like, my soul would sit up in my body and we would just be there in that moment. I also, I teach at a land grant school and I've taught cookbooks as literature before. I always teach Maya Angelou's Hallelujah. Welcome to the table in one of my literature of the body courses. And so I think about food a lot and its relationship to people and community and culture. And in Kansas, we're like the seventh largest food producer and yet one in seven people also experiences food insecurity. And so that connection between being makers, providers but not having your own needs met was of interest to me. And how the arts can also accomplish social good.
Alison Stewart
We got a text. Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou. Thank you for that text as well. I want to circle back to something you've said twice. You've talked about handwriting, about writing in your journal, writing by hand. What do you see as the connection between handwriting something down and your creativity?
Tracy Brimhall
I wish I knew the neuroscience behind it, but when I am on a computer, it is data entry time, clickety clack. When I'm using both hands, my brain doesn't lose track of time for me in quite the same way as when I'm shaping letters by hand. I do try writing in my head. I do try, just like as I'm on a walk, just composing without any hands. And I'm always interested in exploring my process. But I do feel like I can spellbind myself in a creative space and time better when I'm moving my body. So whether that is walking and writing in my head or moving my hand in a certain way, I don't. Again, there might be a neuroscience to it, but I feel like I'm bewitching myself. I feel like I'm casting a spell. I feel like I lose track of time a little bit. I love the practice of journaling. I love the practice of handwriting. And I just feel like when my body is engaged with the writing process, my mind does something differently.
Alison Stewart
Let's talk to Scott, who is calling in and is apparently the current poet laureate for Teaneck. Hi, Scott.
Ernest
Hey.
Tracy Brimhall
Hey.
Ernest
Good afternoon. I'm riding in my car and I have NPR on the radio. And after the news, lo and behold, poetry. I had to pull over and see if I could make a phone call and offer my congratulations to Terry. I said, my name is Scott Pleasance and I'm the current poet laureate for the township of Teaneck, New Jersey. And we're just across the Bridge a stone's throw away from New York City City. And you also mentioned Kansas. And I had spent some time in Wichita many years ago. But this is more just congratulations on the residency call.
Alison Stewart
Thank you so much. Tracy. You got a little shout out there.
Tracy Brimhall
Yeah. Thank you. I really appreciate it. I used to live in New York City. I lived up in Harlem at 129th in Lenox. Many, like almost 20 years ago now. And I'm excited. I live in Manhattan, Kansas, and so I like that. I'm just going from one Manhattan to another for the rest of the year. We call ourselves the Little Apple over here.
Alison Stewart
Let's hear another poem before we go to break. We're going to hear. Love poem without a drop of hyperbole in it.
Tracy Brimhall
Yes. So that I. This was the first love poem I ever wrote. Wrote that felt like a successful love poem because love poems are way harder for me to write than probably any other topic. And I just felt so excited to write a love poem that I thought was celebratory and maybe even a little funny. If no one laughs out there, that's okay. It won't hurt my feelings. Love poem without a drop of hyperbole. I love you like ladybugs love windowsills Love you like sperm whales love squid there's no depth I wouldn't follow you through. I love you like the pawns in chess love aristocratic horses. I'll throw myself in front of a bishop or a queen for you Even a sentient castle. My love is crazy like that. I like that sweet little hothouse mouth you have. I like to kiss you with tongue, with gusto with my socks still on. I love you like a vulture loves the careless deer at the roadside. I want to get all up in you. I love you like Isis loved Osiris but her devotion came up a few inches short. I would train my breath and learn to read sonar until I retrieved every lost blood vessel of you. I swear this love is ungodly not an ounce of suffering in it like salmon with its upstream itch I'll dodge grizzlies for you like hawks to skyscraper rooftops. I'll keep coming back maddened, a little hopeless, embarrassingly in love. And that's why I'm on the couch kissing pictures of you on my phone instead of calling you in from the kitchen where you are undoubtedly making dinner too spicy. But when you hold the spoon to my lips and ask if it's ready I'll say it is always but never there is never enough.
Alison Stewart
We'll have More with Tracy Brimhall after a quick break. This is all of it. You are listening to all of IT on wnyc. I'm Alison Stewart. We're celebrating National Poetry Month with readings from Tracy Brimhall, Poet Laureate of Kansas and incoming poet in Residence at the Guggenheim Museum. We're also having listeners call in and share their favorite poems. Our number is 2124-3396-9221-2433. WNYC. Tracy, you said in an interview shared three rules for writers read promiscuously, embrace writing badly and commitment to community. I know all three. I can do all three. Can you explain reading promiscuously?
Tracy Brimhall
Yes. I think that people should be reading lots of all things and not to feel like there's a genre I can't read or I think people should be taking influence from the vampire novels they're reading and getting bringing that romantic fantasy to poetry. I think people should be reading the news and bringing that to poetry. I think people should be reading fashion magazines and bringing those things to poetry. I don't think that there is a topic that shouldn't show up in a poem. And I think that also that that cross pollination, that hybridity of like reading a fashion magazine and a car mechanic manual and like something clicks for you all of a sudden. There's like a beautiful synthesis in those things. And I know in like one of the poems coming up, it technically, it's not reading. It came part of the information came from a car commercial. And I know like growing up, I didn't come from a house full of books or a house full of readers. I still think I'm the only one in my family who finishes a book in a year and I read, you know, multiple books a week. But I don't come from a family of readers or library goers. We had encyclopedias, the Bible and X Men comics. That is a beautiful literary heritage. I learned so much about words from X Men and so much about storytelling for both X Men and the Bible. And I think those interesting mashups of language and influences is still part of what draws me to language now. And I think there's not a wrong literary inheritance to have. So if you come from a household that wasn't reading 19th century British novels, like, that's okay. I think all things influence us and can help us love language and lean into inspiration, no matter the source.
Alison Stewart
I have to ask you about embrace writing badly. I write a lot of bad poetry.
Tracy Brimhall
Yeah.
Alison Stewart
Is that okay?
Tracy Brimhall
Yes. Well, and I think I sometimes just Say, I'm gonna write a blob today. I won't even call it a poem, but sometimes when I take the. When I have to start with a blank page and, like, bring something about seeing a bird and the meaning of life to it, that's too much pressure. So I. Sometimes I like prompts or things that are playful or just say, like, what blob do I have in me today? Or even, as I mentioned earlier in the hour, journaling just my five senses for the day. The Spanish poet Federico Garcia Lorca said, a poet is the professor of the five senses, not a professor emeritus at whatever university. But if you are in touch with your body, your senses, its connection to the world, you're a poet and what you're experiencing. I think we experience poems throughout our day, and if we're lucky and remember to do it, if we write it down, we're capturing something important about these moments or about reading X Men comics as a kid. So the past definitely inspires us. But I think we just, as long as we're not putting too much pressure on the outcome and can love just the act of writing itself or keep the barrier of entry low so we're not like, and now the deepest thing ever written is. I feel like that's part of what. There's a voice in each of us that wants to edit and polish and make things good. And I sometimes call that my editor brain or my parent brain. I'm trying to fix it and make it good and make it right, but that that brain needs to come in, not at the moment of creation, that that brain needs to wait its turn. And so often I like to say that I give myself a little activity, a puzzle to solve or a problem that my editor organizing to do. List brain is trying to do a poetic form or do something with syllables, and it's working out that puzzle and why the parent brain is busy. My child brain sneaks out of the house, just opens that window, go. Starts playing outside, and brings some sort of intuitive energy to the poem. Robert Frost said, no surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader. And I think surprise is something that metaphor does. It's something that storytelling does. And surprise is something we want as a reader. But even as a writer, I don't want to plot out each line break. I want to be within it and surprise myself. And that's some of the most satisfying parts. So I need to embrace the bad part and give my parrot brain a little task to do so that my creative side that I'm trying To spellbind as I was talking about earlier. Just let my playful side sneak out a bit and have some fun.
Alison Stewart
Let's take some more calls. David is calling in from New Brunswick. Hi, David. Thank you so much for calling, all of it.
David
Yes, indeed, and good afternoon. I'd like to read a poem by a favorite poem by a favorite poet. It's called BlackBerry Eating by Galway Kinnell. So BlackBerry eating. I'd love to go out in late September among the fat, over ripe, icy black blackberries to eat blackberries for breakfast, the stalks very prickly, a penalty they earn for knowing the black art of BlackBerry making. And as I stand among them, lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries fall almost unbidden to my tongue, as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words like strength or squinched many lettered one syllable lumps which I squeeze, squinch, open and splurge well in the silent, startled, icy black language of BlackBerry eating in late September.
Alison Stewart
Thank you so much for calling in. Let's talk to Rebecca from Albany. Hi, Rebecca. Thanks for calling, all of it.
Rebecca
Hi. I loved the poetry by Tracy Brimhall and the BlackBerry poem was so beautiful. My favorite has always been Andrew Marvel's Definition of Love, and I'd love to share it. This poem has just been with me since early childhood. I stole a page out of our school Library as a fifth grade student. And now, 30 something years later, it still holds a very special place.
Alison Stewart
That's funny.
Rebecca
So may I share it?
Alison Stewart
Sure. Yeah.
Rebecca
All right. My love is of a birth is rare, and tis for objects strange and high. It was begotten by despair upon impossibility Magnanimous despair alone could show me so divine a thing where feeble hope could never flown, but vainly flapped its tinsel wing, and yet I quickly might arrive where my extended soul is fixed. But fate does iron wedges drive, and always crowds itself betwixt. For fate with jealous eye does thee too perfect loves, Nor left them close their union would her ruin be, and her tyrannic power depose. And therefore with her decrees of steel us as the distant holds of place, Though love's whole world on us doth wheel, not by themselves to be embraced, Unless the giddy heavens fall, and earth some new convulsion tear, and us to join the world should all be cramped into a planisphere. As lions still love, the bleak may well themselves in every angle greet. But ours so truly parallel, though infinite, can never meet. Therefore the love which stuff binds but fate so enviously debars is the conjunction of the mind and opposition of the stars.
Alison Stewart
Thank you so much for that call, Tracy. Before we wrap up, how would you what is the role of the poet in society today?
Tracy Brimhall
Gosh, that's a big one. I feel that. I think it's all artists. I also hope it's in other areas of our life. But I heard the quote initially it was about journalism, but that it should comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. I think it is art's job, hopefully to say something honest. I think it's art's job to help keep all of our spirits alive. I think hopefully it's art's job to help us dream. And I know that's a long to do list. But I think that's also why we all keep returning to arts. Whether it's books or movies or music, we don't live a day without the arts. And I think that ideally we find the arts that speak to us, that move us emotionally, move us to think, and that it's the difference between, for me, sleepwalking through my life and having my spirit sort of awake in my body. And so I know that when I first heard a poem that like woke me up inside, I felt less alone that other people were experiencing the world in the way that I did. And I hope that whether it's my poems or somebody else's music or anyone's films or visual art, that other people experience an art form in some way that helps them feel less alone in the world because they can see how somebody else is experiencing the world and feel that kind of kinship and connection.
Alison Stewart
Tracey Brimhall is the Poet Laureate of Kansas and incoming Poet in Residence at the Guggenheim Museum. Tracey, thank you for your time today.
Tracy Brimhall
Thanks for having me on.
Progressive Insurance Ad
NYC now delivers the most up to date local news from WNYC and Gothamist every morning, midday and evening with three updates a day. Listeners get breaking news, top headlines and in depth coverage from across New York City by sponsoring programming like NYC Now. You'll reach our community of dedicated listeners with premium messaging and an uncluttered audio experience. Visit sponsorship.wnyc.org to get in touch and find out more.
Podcast Summary: All Of It – Poetry with Guggenheim Fellow Tracy Brimhall
Podcast Information
Episode Details
Alison Stewart opens the episode by highlighting the show's celebration of National Poetry Month. She recaps previous episodes where poets like Willie Perdomo, Tracy K. Smith, and Robin Wal discussed the significance of poetry in understanding ourselves and the world. Today's guest is Tracy Brimhall, the Poet Laureate of Kansas and incoming Poet in Residence at the Guggenheim Museum. Brimhall is also a professor of English at Kansas State University and the author of Love Prodigal.
Timestamp: [00:36]
Alison Stewart welcomes Tracy Brimhall, expressing excitement about her recent appointment as Poet in Residence at the Guggenheim Museum. She encourages listeners to engage by sharing their favorite poems and poets.
Timestamp: [00:36]
Tracy Brimhall responds with gratitude, expressing enthusiasm for the opportunity to discuss poetry with the audience.
Timestamp: [02:17]
Alison promotes the upcoming "Get Lit with All Of It" event featuring author Leila Lalame and Moroccan musician Ima Ghanawa. She provides information on obtaining free tickets and accessing an e-copy of Lalame's book.
Timestamp: [00:36] - [02:17]
Alison Stewart inquires about Brimhall’s reaction upon learning about her residency at the Guggenheim Museum.
Timestamp: [02:19]
Tracy Brimhall shares her initial panic upon receiving the email, fearing she might have erred in her application. She describes the relief and excitement following the confirmation, emphasizing the collaborative nature of her new role compared to traditional poet laureate positions.
Timestamp: [02:55] - [04:16]
Notable Quote:
"I'm so excited for this upcoming year and getting to travel to and from New York quite a bit to do some of this programming."
— Tracy Brimhall [03:23]
Alison Stewart explores Brimhall’s habits when reading poetry.
Timestamp: [04:16]
Tracy Brimhall discusses her morning routine of reading and hand-copying poems in her journal, a practice she calls “meditating in cursive.” She explains how this method deepens her connection to the poems and enhances her understanding.
Timestamp: [04:22] - [05:15]
Notable Quote:
"Reading it aloud changes what I think I understand about it. But reshaping the poem letter by letter and getting to know every choice and every word... changes my sense of the poem and my relationship to the poem."
— Tracy Brimhall [04:36]
Alison Stewart asks about the poets Brimhall frequently revisits.
Timestamp: [05:15]
Tracy Brimhall mentions returning to foundational poets like Emily Dickinson, John Donne, and Robert Frost, who are often first introduced to students. She also highlights contemporary poet Danusha Lamaris, emphasizing the importance of both historical and living poets in her work.
Timestamp: [05:20] - [06:13]
Notable Quote:
"I tend to find a lot of community and communion with writers I could possibly email if I ever followed up on that."
— Tracy Brimhall [06:13]
Alison Stewart invites listeners to share their favorite poems and poets via call-ins and social media.
Timestamp: [02:19]
Listener Ernest from the Bronx shares his admiration for Langston Hughes, appreciating Hughes' connection to Harlem and his travels, particularly to Africa.
Timestamp: [06:23] - [06:55]
Alison Stewart introduces Brimhall’s original poem, "Stellar Parallax," which explores themes of long-distance relationships and the celestial metaphor of stars' positions.
Timestamp: [07:36]
Tracy Brimhall reads "Stellar Parallax," showcasing her ability to intertwine personal experiences with scientific concepts.
Timestamp: [07:36] - [10:01]
Notable Excerpt from "Stellar Parallax":
"Even miles apart, we want to be close. So we step out onto cold concrete and call out constellations like vows..."
— Tracy Brimhall [07:36]
Alison Stewart highlights Brimhall’s initiatives to merge Kansas's agricultural roots with the literary arts.
Timestamp: [10:01]
Tracy Brimhall explains that during the COVID lockdown, she developed a journaling habit focused on the five senses to combat mental fog. This practice led her to appreciate the connection between food, community, and culture. She emphasizes Kansas's significant role in food production juxtaposed with the prevalence of food insecurity, inspiring her to use the arts for social good.
Timestamp: [10:20] - [12:43]
Notable Quote:
"I teach Maya Angelou's 'Hallelujah, Welcome to the Table' in one of my literature of the body courses. And so I think about food a lot and its relationship to people and community and culture."
— Tracy Brimhall [12:43]
Alison Stewart revisits the topic of handwriting and its role in creativity.
Timestamp: [12:43]
Tracy Brimhall elaborates on how handwriting engages her brain differently than typing. She describes the tactile experience of writing as a medium that facilitates creative flow, allowing her to lose track of time and deepen her creative connection.
Timestamp: [14:13] - [14:22]
Notable Quote:
"When I'm using both hands, my brain doesn't lose track of time for me in quite the same way as when I'm shaping letters by hand."
— Tracy Brimhall [13:06]
Listener Scott from Teaneck congratulates Brimhall on her residency, noting his own position as Poet Laureate for Teaneck, New Jersey, and his connection to Kansas.
Timestamp: [14:22] - [15:12]
Tracy Brimhall responds warmly, sharing her past residency in Harlem and her excitement about her new role.
Timestamp: [15:12] - [15:34]
Before a brief hiatus, Brimhall reads another original poem titled "Love Poem Without a Drop of Hyperbole," which humorously and sincerely explores the depths and quirks of love.
Timestamp: [15:43] - [17:38]
Notable Excerpt from "Love Poem Without a Drop of Hyperbole":
"I love you like ladybugs love windowsills, Love you like sperm whales love squid... I'll keep coming back maddened, a little hopeless, embarrassingly in love."
— Tracy Brimhall [15:43]
Alison Stewart references Brimhall’s three rules for writers: read promiscuously, embrace writing badly, and commit to community. She probes deeper into these concepts.
Timestamp: [27:12] - [20:29]
Tracy Brimhall elaborates on each rule:
Read Promiscuously: Encourages reading across genres and mediums to inspire poetry from diverse sources, including fashion magazines and car manuals.
Quote:
"There is not a genre I can't read... bringing that romantic fantasy to poetry."
— Tracy Brimhall [18:35]
Embrace Writing Badly: Advocates for lowering the barrier to creation by allowing oneself to write imperfectly without the pressure of producing masterpiece poetry immediately.
Quote:
"I need to embrace the bad part and give my editor brain a little task to do so that my creative side can play."
— Tracy Brimhall [20:35]
Commitment to Community: Highlights the importance of engaging with a community of writers and readers to foster growth and support.
Quote:
"Federico Garcia Lorca said, a poet is the professor of the five senses... capturing something important about these moments."
— Tracy Brimhall [20:37]
Listener David from New Brunswick shares "BlackBerry Eating" by Galway Kinnell, appreciating the vivid imagery and connection to nature.
Timestamp: [23:31] - [24:52]
Listener Rebecca from Albany shares Andrew Marvell's "Definition of Love," a poem that has held sentimental value since her childhood.
Timestamp: [24:59] - [27:01]
Tracy Brimhall acknowledges these contributions, reinforcing the episode’s theme of community and shared appreciation for poetry.
Alison Stewart asks Brimhall to define the poet’s role in today’s society.
Timestamp: [27:12]
Tracy Brimhall articulates that poets, and artists broadly, should strive to comfort the afflicted and challenge the comfortable. She believes art should speak honestly, keep spirits alive, inspire dreams, and foster a sense of connectedness among individuals.
Timestamp: [27:12] - [29:01]
Notable Quote:
"I hope that other people experience an art form in some way that helps them feel less alone in the world because they can see how somebody else is experiencing the world."
— Tracy Brimhall [27:12]
Alison Stewart wraps up the episode by thanking Tracy Brimhall for her insights and readings. She reiterates the invitation for listeners to participate by sharing their favorite poems and poets.
Timestamp: [29:01] - [29:13]
This episode of All Of It offers a deep dive into the world of poetry through the lens of Tracy Brimhall, exploring her creative processes, her role as Poet in Residence at the Guggenheim Museum, and her philosophies on writing and reading. The episode not only showcases Brimhall’s poetic works but also fosters a sense of community by engaging listeners in sharing their own poetic favorites. Through thoughtful discussions and evocative readings, the episode underscores the enduring relevance of poetry in reflecting and shaping cultural narratives.