Danielle Chapman — Trespassing with Tweens

Mon Dec 16 2024

Wonder and strangeness commingle with the commonplace and universal in Danielle Chapman’s “Trespassing with Tweens.” In a not-quite mirroring, a human mother and her children stand and watch together in awe as a great blue heron flaps in and feeds its two offspring. The pleasures found here are profound and multiple – the joys in seeing, in sharing an experience of seeing, in seeing with fresh eyes, and in being seen.

Summary

Podcast Summary: Poetry Unbound – Episode featuring Danielle Chapman on "Trespassing with Tweens"

Podcast Information

Title: Poetry Unbound
Host: Pádraig Ó Tuama (referred to as Padre Go Toma in the transcript)
Producer: On Being Studios
Description: An immersive exploration of a single poem, delving into its wisdom and the questions it poses to listeners.
Episode: Danielle Chapman — Trespassing with Tweens
Release Date: December 16, 2024

Introduction

In this episode of Poetry Unbound, host Pádraig Ó Tuama welcomes listeners to an in-depth exploration of Danielle Chapman’s evocative poem, “Trespassing with Tweens.” Padre Go Toma (as named in the transcript) sets the stage by sharing exciting news about upcoming publications and providing context about his perspectives on parenting, even humorously noting his lack of personal experience:

“...because I don't have children, all of my opinions about parenting are absolutely fantastic...” (00:00).

Reading of "Trespassing with Tweens"

Padre Go Toma introduces and reads "Trespassing with Tweens," immersing listeners in the vivid imagery and layered meanings of Chapman’s work. The poem juxtaposes the natural behavior of herons with the dynamic and often tumultuous relationship between parents and their tween-aged children. The reading captures the essence of coexistence, transition, and the subtle tensions that arise during the preteen years.

Analysis and Discussion

Themes of Transition and Boundaries

The discussion delves into the poem’s exploration of the transitional phase of tweens—those on the cusp of adolescence—highlighting the delicate balance parents maintain as children seek independence while still relying on them. Padre Go Toma reflects on the metaphor of "trespassing," pondering whether parenting during these years feels like navigating uncharted territories:

“Does parenting preteen sometimes feel like trespassing? Trespassing on where you don't want to go...” (05:45).

Imagery and Symbolism

Chapman’s use of herons serves as a powerful symbol for the parental role and the natural instincts involved in nurturing. The detailed description of the herons’ actions mirrors the complexities of parenting tweens:

“A black stripe streaks into his crest's flung jot...” (10:15).

Padre Go Toma appreciates the poem’s demand for precise language to convey the multifaceted emotions involved, noting the challenge and beauty in articulating feelings of love, frustration, and wonder.

Language and Sound

The poem’s auditory elements are examined, particularly the repetition and sound patterns that emphasize the communication between parent and child:

“Look, Mommy, look, look, look.” (13:40).

The repetition highlights the children’s desire for attention and validation, while the phonetic qualities of the words evoke a sense of urgency and longing.

Parent-Child Relationship Dynamics

A significant portion of the discussion focuses on the evolving dynamics between parents and tweens. Padre Go Toma explores how the poem captures the essence of letting go, as parents witness their children’s growing independence:

“From a very, very early age of your children, it's an entire process of learning to let go...” (12:30).

This theme resonates throughout the poem, illustrating the delicate dance of maintaining connection while allowing space for personal growth.

Notable Quotes

Padre Go Toma on Upcoming Publications:
“I've got two books coming out in early 2025... Kitchen Hymns.” (00:00)
On Parenting and Letting Go:
“It's all about hunger, I think. It's all about desire. Hunger to be seen.” (14:50)
On the Poem’s Musicality:
“I love the demand of this poem. It's even difficult at times to say some of the phrases.” (11:20)

Insights and Conclusions

Padre Go Toma concludes that “Trespassing with Tweens” is a profound reflection on the intricate emotions and challenges inherent in parenting during the transitional tween years. The poem not only paints a vivid picture of the natural world but also serves as a mirror to human relationships, emphasizing themes of connection, independence, and the continuous journey of understanding one another.

He emphasizes the importance of poetry as a medium for exploring and articulating complex emotional landscapes, encouraging listeners to engage deeply with the poem’s layers:

“This poem is enthralled with wonder... looking at these herons.” (13:00).

Additional Resources

Poem Source: Boxed Juice by Danielle Chapman
Publishing Permission: Courtesy of Unbound Edition Press
Further Reading: The poem is available for reading on the On Being Studios website.
Subscribe: Listeners are invited to subscribe to the Poetry Unbound Substack newsletter for ongoing discussions and additional content.

Credits

Hosts: Pádraig Ó Tuama (Padre Go Toma), Chris Heagle
Music: Composed by Gautam Srikishan and Blue Dot Sessions
Production: On Being Studios, Minneapolis, Minnesota

Join the Conversation

Listeners are encouraged to participate in the vibrant discussions on the Poetry Unbound Substack newsletter and attend occasional gatherings to deepen their engagement with poetry and its myriad interpretations.

For more information and to subscribe, visit poetryunbound.org.

Transcript

Padre Go Toma (0:00)

Hi friends, I've got some news for you. I've got two books coming out in early 2025. 44 poems on being with each Other is a poetry unbound collection with 44 poems and 44 essays. There's poems from Jericho Brown and Mary Oliver and Lucille Clifton in there. And I have a collection of my own poems coming out too. It's called Kitchen Hymns. You can pre order these wherever you get your books. Online bookshops or even better, your local bookshop. There's more info@poetryunbound.org thanks friends. My name is Padre Go Toma and because I don't have children, all of my opinions about parenting are absolutely fantastic and all of my fantasy hypothetical children are perfectly well behaved and we've never had any kind of difficulty, and they transitioned from childhood to teenagerhood to adulthood perfectly and easily with our relationships intact. Obviously none of that's true. But what interests me when I look at parents is the exhausting way within which right from day one it seems you're bringing somebody up and caring for them with the idea that they'll move away. And that is a complicated face of love. A beautiful face of love, a self giving face of love, but one that I never cease to wonder at. Trespassing with Tweens by Danielle Chapman after arguing, gasping up at the great blue heron's flap into the cypresses, we hush into mosses and fallen needles, auburn as wood doves. All around us the forbidden water district's lily pads flex their mirrored hides. Now another clatters back from his wide hunter's glide, brings in his wings ungainly myth folds his fisherman legs and straightens the tremendous s beard of his neck. His pterodactyl face, almost all beak, focuses in a yellow twinge that wells into an eye. A black stripe streaks into his crest's flung jot. You hate how distracted I get my incomprehensible flights, but you comprehend this pair of herons sitting down on their extravagances to feed their chicks. And now you're shrieking at their clocks, their gullying barks. For a heron parent has tilted his or her face formally as a watering can toward a vase, fluffed by what we're certain is look, look Mommy. Look, look, look. Two smaller beaks and an this is a poem that works on so many different levels all at once. On the one hand, it's an extraordinary depiction of a heron family, two adults and two chicks. And it's also a depiction of a human family watching a heron family and we see hunger in the chicks as the poem reaches its end, but we also hear some kind of tension between the human family, the poet, the mother, and offspring. After arguing, we hear in the first two words, this is a parent with tweens, a word that I looked up just to be sure that I understood it properly. Tweens is a few years before teenagerhood, I suppose, a way of talking about some kind of transition time, some kind of time when people are developing independence, but also not independent and feeling the wrestle and the tug of that. Obviously, I think that the trespassing of the poem's title is very specific to a certain incident of trespassing rule breaking by Danielle Chapman and her offspring. But I wonder, does the word trespassing go into some other direction as well? Does parenting preteen sometimes feel like trespassing? Trespassing on where you don't want to go, where you're not supposed to go, trying to figure out what is and what isn't the boundary in terms of how we relate to each other. Now, that seems to me to be part of the invitation of thinking about the relationship between the speakers in this poem, the poet, and then the children, the tweens, who say, look, Mommy, look, look, look. I love the repetition of the word look there. It's almost like the poem is inviting us to curiosity not only about the herons feeding the chicks, but also about the parent with independence, growing young people in her career who also want to look after themselves in as much as they're able. I learned so much about poetry and about great blue herons from reading this poem by Daniel Chapman. The locale of these particular herons, the cypresses, but then also the way that Daniel Chapman describes them. The sound of them clatters and their flight is described as a wide hunter's glide. And this particular heron's, his wings ungainly myth and the body fisherman legs and the tremendous s spirit of his neck. And then his pterodactyl face, almost all beak. And there's the sound repeated later on, not from the adult herons, but from the chicks, their clucks, their gullying barks. I wondered how long you have to spend listening to these unwritten words to be able to write them down in a way. Not that it is the exact scientific description, but it's the sound of what they do sound like a gullying bark, the clatter and then also the wings ungainly. Putting myth with the descriptor ungainly here. Such an interesting tension to see the enormity of this bird that is so fluent in how it gathers food and how it distributes food and water to its offspring, but nonetheless, how strange it looks to see this long, stretched out bird flying through the sky. I love the demand of this poem. It's even difficult at times to say some of the phrases. A black stripe streaks into his crests flung jot at the practice that over and over again to make sure that I could just make it like some kind of piece of music in my mouth. I think partly what we're being brought into is the description upon description upon description of wonder, of attention, and of how it is that language is seeking to move towards something that we will never be able to capture, which is the magnificence of what we see and what we look at when it's right in front of that interruption of the line. You hate how distracted I get my incomprehensible flights. What are the incomprehensible flights? Maybe it is the fact that, you know, parents need to go to work and that can be difficult because young people can be left alone at one time, but the parents might be going, well, if we want to have food on the table and the capacity to go for walks or go on a holiday or just get by on a day to day basis. My flights into work are incomprehensible, of course, to a younger person, but nonetheless necessary. Maybe it's not as straightforward as this parent's working and isn't always around. Maybe it is as deliberately obscure as the fact that we are often strange to each other and that sometimes seeing something like an animal upon whom there may be very little projection in front of you doing the work that they're doing of hunger, of flight, of beauty, of brilliance, of strength, feeding that that can make our incomprehensibility to each other seem a little bit more comprehensible. What friends of mine say about parenting is that from a very, very early age of your children, it's an entire process of learning to let go, that someone's born in order to grow up. And it can be a difficult thing to see a one year old beginning to be independent in the way that of course they need to be, in the way that a 1 year old can be. But that can feel like a letting go. And at 5 and at 15 and at 20, 25, all of these lettings go. And the poem too begins to make a letting go. There's references to all around us, but toward the end, the poem turns towards you, begins to address these Growing human beings. You hate how distracted I get my incomprehensible flights. But you comprehend this pair of herons, and it turns back to the we. But when they turn back, they're united in wonder rather than in some kind of argument. And it's an interesting way within which the poem itself, too, is trying to ache and move towards that complicated space where somebody is both independent and not, dependent and not. This poem is enthralled with wonder, and the wonder just builds and builds towards the end, because clearly the poet is filled with wonder, looking at these herons. But then the poet's attention is taken by. By these tweens, and now you're shrieking at their clocks. Shriek, cluck. I love the way within which the offspring are suddenly being brought into communion and conversation with each other, with the sound of what happens when we are filled with need. The five words that seem to come from one of the tweens to the mother, look, mommy, look, look, look. Are in italics and parentheses towards the end of a final line. In fact, they interrupt a final line. What is this? There's the word mommy, which is about connection, of course, but a word that is similar in so many languages in the sense of something that begins with M and is repeated with a vowel sound after it. This is the way that people refer to their mother. And what we're hearing is sounds, sounds of connection and early sounds too, with mommy. And then the look, look, look, L, K. These strong liquid as well as explosive sounds in the mouth. It's all about hunger, I think. It's all about desire. Hunger to be seen. Hunger to be seen. Seeing, wanting to be the ones directing to look. Even though obviously they're all looking, but they need to say it. There's something about being in relationship and being next to somebody to whom you can say, look at that, when clearly you're both looking already. And then that final line, two smaller beaks and an opening. An opening to what? Obviously, the beaks are opening and wanting some water, wanting some food. But an opening, too, perhaps, between the speaker, the mother here, who's being addressed, and the tweens. A communion that perhaps is the antithesis to how the poem started. After arguing trespassing with tweens by Danielle Chapman. After arguing, gasping up at the great blue herons flap into the cypresses we hush into mosses and fallen needles auburn as wood doves all around us the forbidden water district's lily pads flex their mirrored hides. Now another clatters back from his wide hunter's glide brings in his wings ungainly myth folds his fisherman legs and straightens the tremendous s beard of his neck. His pterodactyl face, almost all beak, focuses in a yellow twinge that wells into an eye. A black stripe streaks into his crest's flung jot. You hate how distracted I get my incomprehensible flights, but you comprehend this pair of herons sitting down on their extravagances to feed their chicks, and now you're shrieking at their clocks, their gullying barks. For a heron parent has tilted his or her face formally as a watering can toward a vase, fluffed by what we're certain is look, Mommy, look, look, look. Two smaller beaks and an opening.