Major Jackson (6:30)

I will.

Micah Kilbon (6:31)

Thank you.

Major Jackson (6:32)

You'll hear the parentheses in the title. Because I want to do this. It's the parentheses in the end. You get everything back. Liza Minnelli. The afterlife is an infinity of custom shelving where everything you have ever loved has a perfect place, including things that don't fit on shelves like the weeping willow from your parents backyard or an old boyfriend exactly as he was in your second year of college. Or an aria you love but without the rest of the opera you don't particularly care for. My favorite joke question, you know, who dies? Answer everyone, because it's true. But ask any doctor and they'll say that prolonging a life is saving a life. Ask anyone who survives their surgeries and they'll say yes, to keep living is to be saved. I do think there's a statute of limitations on grief. Like certainly how someone died can be sad forever. But who can be sad simply about the fact that Shakespeare, say, is dead? Or Sappho or Judy Garland or Rumi? There's a Twitter account called Liza Minnelli Outlives, which put into the world a set of thoughts I was having privately. But the Twitter account is kinder than I had been tweeting things like Liza Minnelli has outlived the National Rifle association, which has filed for bankruptcy, and Liz Minnelli has outlived Armie Hammer's career to take the sting out of the really painful ones. Like Liza Minnelli has outlived Jessica Walter or Liza Minnelli has outlived George Michael or Liza Minnelli has outlived Prince In My Own Afterlife. The custom shelves are full of Liza Minnelli's Liza in Cabaret, Liza in Arrested Development, Liza singing Steam Heat on the Judy Garland Christmas Special, Liza on the Muppet Show, Liza in Liza's at the Palace. This is heaven. Liza won't even know she's in my hall of loved objects, just as I won't know that my fandom has been placed on her shelf For When Liza Minnelli has outlived Jason Schneiderman waiting for Liza Minnelli When Liza Minnelli has outlived Liza Minnelli, which is what fame is and what fame is not. And if Jason Schneiderman outlives Jason Schneiderman and your love of this poem waits for me on one of my shelves and will keep me company for eternity. Thank you for that. I promise to cherish your love in that well lit infinity of forever. In one theory of the mind, the psyche is just a grab bag of lost objects, our wholeness lost when we leave the womb, when we discover our own body, and so on and so on, our wholeness lost and lost and lost as we find ourselves smaller and smaller. Which is why heaven is an endless cozy warehouse where nothing you loved is gone, where you are whole because you get everything back. And by everything I mean you.

Micah Kilbon (10:16)

Let's bring out this is a great start. Wonderful poem. Let's bring out our next two guests. Samia Bashir is a poet and librettist whose work lives at the crossroads of sound, movement, memory and black imagination. Her fourth collection of poetry. I hope this helps. Just came out from Nightboat Books. A Rome Prize winner, Samir's work bends genre to hold rupture and breath and resistance rooted in black, queer, and diasporic futures. Currently, she serves as the June Jordan Visiting Scholar at Columbia University and lives in Harlem, usa. Please welcome Samia Bashir. Padraig Otuama is a poet with interest in language, violence, power and religion. He is the fabulous host of On Being's Poetry Unbound and has published volumes of poetry, essays, a memoir, and a theology. 2025 saw the publication of Kitchen Hymns, a volume of original poems from Cheerio and Copper Canyon Press, and the anthology 44 poems on being with each Other, a poetry unbound collection from Canongate and W.W. norton. Padra Gotooma lives in Belfast in New York City. Please welcome. So how are we doing?

Major Jackson (12:12)

Fabulous.

Micah Kilbon (12:13)

Wonderful. And you know, past couple days we've been at a writers conference, and even outside of a writers conference, we live kind of busy lives. What do you do to slow down?

Jason Schneiderman (12:29)

The last couple of weeks I've been on an island off an island off the west coast of Scotland, and that's been pretty nice to slow down.

Micah Kilbon (12:36)

Okay, we can all go home now.

Jason Schneiderman (12:39)

I was working, but I had to walk over a hill with sheep and an occasional dog and some cows in order to get to the place where I was working. It was pretty nice.

Micah Kilbon (12:50)

Wonderful.

Jason Schneiderman (12:51)

Yeah.

Padraic Otuama (12:53)

I drive, actually. I recently wrote a piece that's in the current Poets and Writers why I Drive and, you know, the idea of highway poetics. And for me, home more than any place on earth is on the American highway. And it's where I get to slow down. It's where I get to turn the phone off. It's where I get to breathe. It's where I get to find poems in the landscape. And yeah, absolutely. I drive.

Micah Kilbon (13:22)

That's wonderful.

Major Jackson (13:23)

I lift weights. It's really nice. I get to just be a body for a little bit.

Micah Kilbon (13:31)

You have three choices here. You can go to the gym, you can go to an island off the coast of Scotland, or you can take a drive. I'm thinking about the arc of the slowdown since its first inception in 2018. We've seen a lot of political changes and seems like the social fabric of our lives is also changing. Do you also feel changes in the role of poetry in your life as a result?

Padraic Otuama (14:08)

Absolutely. Major.

Micah Kilbon (14:09)

Yeah.

Padraic Otuama (14:09)

I mean, I think one of the things that's critical about poets and poetry is that it's almost our job, or what I would call our honor, to provide language for what that is going on. You know, we're all experiencing these things, but how do we talk about it? How do we think about it? We need language to think even. And to be able to try to create a space to provide language for dealing with everything and understanding what's happening with us and to us and through us, I think is exponential.

Major Jackson (14:50)

I mean, sort of yes and no. I mean, you have to write in the present, so you can't write in the past. Like, you have to. Like, whatever happens is happening to you now. And so you're writing into it and out of it. But then there's also something nice about, you know, like Gerard Manley Hopkins or, you know, going back into something which can feel so distant or so unchanging that, you know, like, when I go to, like, that work, it's the same as it was, and there's a kind of a space outside. So I feel like there's a yes and a no, that poetry kind of stay that the sort of. There's a way in which it's both an anchor and a harbinger.

Padraic Otuama (15:37)

But wouldn't you say, Jason, that that's kind of the beauty and tragedy of history, too?

Major Jackson (15:46)

Yes.

Padraic Otuama (15:47)

You know, like, we can go back and we can find Gerard Manley Hopkins, and it is absolutely as if it were written today and is absolutely important and maybe imperative today.

Major Jackson (16:04)

Absolutely, yeah.

Jason Schneiderman (16:08)

I'm never sure what the purpose of a poem is. I think it is its own purpose. And there can be value in writing about flowers during a time of war, and there can be value in writing about violence during a time of ease, if there is ever such a thing. And so I suppose I'm always interested in how a poem can bear witness to itself, not just as an object of self interest, but as an object and an experience, an event of noticing, because that might be something that can help to notice.

Micah Kilbon (16:47)

I'm intrigued by all of what you said, and I'm thinking about the poems that some of what I just heard is that sometimes the poems are written and maybe their relevance is not felt until maybe a confluence of events comes around and renders that poem maybe even more kind of resonant, relevant. You're all poets, do you. I know, Jason, you just said, I write because I'm in the moment, but I am thinking about poems that might be written today, going forward, and what someone in the future might understand about this particular moment. Any thoughts about that? As writers, as poets?

Major Jackson (17:41)

I mean, I think that one of the. For me, the poem is so personal and there's an incredible intimacy that lasts beyond the moment of making. And that obviously, you know, George Manley Hopkins, for the example, or Shakespeare have been dead for a very long time, but they didn't die because they have this thing that persists in the world and that I can still engage and have an intimate relationship with. And I think that it's very hard to know in advance what intimacies you're going to need. And I would love to believe that in 200 years, the intimacy that someone needs in a particular moment is. Is me. That would be, you know, that would fulfill my sort of like narcissistic, ego driven personality. But I don't know, it's so hard to know. And I think a lot about Kafka and the way in which he was producing work that does and does not seem so inflected by the moment he was living in. And also, I love Kafka in part because during his life he was very, very funny. Like when people listened to the Metamorphosis, like they fell out of their chairs laughing, which we don't do when we read the Metamorphosis, we're like, this is.

Micah Kilbon (19:04)

Sort of funny, right? A guy wakes up and he's a bug, right? That has some. A lot of.

Major Jackson (19:10)

So you talk about it and it's funny. You're by yourself. Like, this is horrible. And so I don't. I don't know. I think that how those moments of intimacy interact is it's like two molecules that are having a completely unpredictable chemical reaction. And so I'm scared to prognosticate what the future might need from us now. But I know that that kind of human molecule encountering another human molecule that happens in a poem, you need different molecules at different times. You need different people at different times. And I sort of know what I need. But particularly with, like, my students, I actually send them into the slowdown because I want them to have, like a really huge archive so they can find what they need instead of what I think they need, or instead of what I think they're going to be drawn to or what, you know, I can let them have that moment of human connection with a stranger that I think poetry provides. That we need.

Padraic Otuama (20:18)

Yeah, absolutely. You know, Jason, I think it's interesting because I feel like my current Kafka is a meme, a gif of there's a furry white monkey that's just kind of gesturing wildly, like, what are you talking about? What do you mean? And I feel like we're in our white monkey era right now, where what every Day What? And, you know, I have to say, like, the last year or so, finalizing this book. I hope this helps. It was my dream for it to not be relevant.

Micah Kilbon (20:58)

Wow.

Padraic Otuama (20:59)

You know, I mean, I wrote this through from. Let's call it the first era, through the pandemic era, through the whatever is happening. And every moment I keep thinking we can. We're gonna do better, we're gonna choose differently. We're gonna. We're gonna. We're gonna. And that we keep deepening the white monkey era of it all is great for the book, I guess, but, you know, it helps, apparently, but not what does that mean for us. And at least the whole thing about the idea of hoping it helps is that how do we provide a roadmap out of this? How do we provide, like, a psycho spiritual roadmap out of this and back to ourselves?

Micah Kilbon (21:52)

Padraic, did you have similar goals for your kitchen hymns?

Jason Schneiderman (21:56)

No, I didn't. I'm really very, very awkward about ever thinking about a purpose or a role for anybody's poem, because I think a poem is an event, an experience. But what I think is deeper than that is that when people will look back and look at the poems that are being written during this time now, one of the things that they'll see, whether or not they know the references, whether or not certain people are forgotten, I hope they are, is that they'll go, people were making. And that, I think, is what is lasting, is that in the midst of dismay, people continue to make and the vocation to make, to engage in the vulnerable risk of making something that's new. When you make it so it's small, it's breakable, but yet it's precious to you. That, I think, is a nurture, and it's really worthwhile nurturing that even when it's small, even when it's hidden, even when nobody knows about it. Because I hope that nurturing that might cause something to think, what would it be like to make a society? What would it be like to make a neighborhood, a community, a friendship, a change, a repentance? That those two are acts of making and acts of art that are public.

Micah Kilbon (23:12)

That's beautiful. And it has me think about maybe, you know, some of what we're asking ourselves at this moment, which is what we've asked in the past, is what to do next. And I think partly this is what we do next. We come together around art and we create space for art to be made, whether it's a poem or watercolor or a dance and something about the testimonial of that as someone's selfhood, someone existing at a time in which it gives texture to whatever history is going to be or whatever words we're going to lend to this particular moment. Y'all know I can talk, right? That's what I do. On the slowdown, I do some talking. And on the slowdown, we. We typically follow. We proceed the poem with some talking, and then the poem, and then the episode is over. But tonight, we're going to do something special. We are going to have someone who's very dear to the show come out and someone who's behind the scenes. I'm so happy that she's here today. Please welcome our lead producer, Micah Kilbon.

Samia Bashir (24:37)

Hello. It's such a pleasure to join you all on stage on my very tall stool. I'm usually a remote producer, so people don't often also know that I am tall without the stool. And you know, what the audience normally knows about the slowdown or poetry unbound, or the books, poems, projects that you all are working on is this kind of serious, solitary version that we send out into the world. The writer in their attic and looking out. And what people don't know about the projects that we work on is they're often very silly. When two people, when three people, when four people are collaborating. And as producer, that's kind of my job, is to keep things silly. We record, often on the slowdown, 10 episodes at once, and they can be kind of heavy. And so I'm coming in hot with jokes. I turn off the mute on zoom, and I'm just slanging silly things. And so I thought to the stage, I would bring just as much silliness as I normally bring. We're gonna play some games. And major, you know what I always say, And Jason's been a guest host on the show, so he knows I say this, too. When it's time to get down to business.

Micah Kilbon (25:54)

Poem time.

Samia Bashir (25:55)

It's poem time.

Micah Kilbon (25:56)

Poem time.

Samia Bashir (26:00)

Usually we're like, it's poem time. My voice goes up an octave. So we're gonna play some games. These four poets are going to be competing for no prize whatsoever. But for that you to know, I'd.

Jason Schneiderman (26:12)

Like to have a word about that. No prizes.

Samia Bashir (26:14)

We can talk about it in the parking lot afterwards. Yeah, no, we'll figure something out. But it might be my firstborn, because I don't have much else to give. This is public radio, isn't it? Just kidding. We're well taken care of. Anyways, don't let Me get away from myself. Y'all feeling ready?

Micah Kilbon (26:35)

Yeah.

Padraic Otuama (26:35)

Yes.

Samia Bashir (26:35)

Let's do this.

Padraic Otuama (26:36)

All right.

Samia Bashir (26:36)

You have no idea what's coming, but you're ready. You saw no idea what's coming. Not prepared at all. I didn't even tell them we were doing this. That's the producer's job, is to keep secrets. Don't listen to me. This is not my school of producing. All right, let's get started with the first game. This one is going to be trivia, onomatopoeia. Sorry, I said that the wrong way. Trivia, onomatopoeia, and we don't have bells because this is a live podcast, and so I think instead of a bell, you each are going to select your favorite onomatopoeia as your bell. We're playing a game, a short game of trivia. So I will ask the question, and whoever wants to answer first, you're gonna have to tell me that you want to answer with your onomatopoeia. All right, Major, give me a sound screet. All right, all right. You can vary a little bit. I think I'll know from the sound of your voice. All right, Jason.

Major Jackson (27:36)

Whisk.

Samia Bashir (27:37)

Ooh, that's good.

Micah Kilbon (27:37)

Ooh, nice.

Samia Bashir (27:38)

Samia.

Jason Schneiderman (27:43)

Padraig Plubernig.

Samia Bashir (27:46)

That sounds like a little character. All right, those are some amazing buzzers. All right, here's our first question. Which modernist poet's work about feeling Whisk. I knew you were gonna get this one. I'll finish reading the question. Which modernist poet's work about felines inspired the hit 80s musical Cats? Jason, wait. I feel like I heard whisk first.

Major Jackson (28:16)

Do you want to say it together?

Micah Kilbon (28:17)

Yeah. You ready?

Samia Bashir (28:18)

Yeah.

Major Jackson (28:18)

T.S.

Micah Kilbon (28:19)

Eliot.

Padraic Otuama (28:22)

Elliot.

Samia Bashir (28:24)

Okay, you guys each get half a point.

Micah Kilbon (28:27)

Yeah.

Samia Bashir (28:27)

All right, all right, you get half a point.

Padraic Otuama (28:29)

I'm just gonna argue for an honorable mention. I'm literally wearing a cat's scarf right now. Yes.

Samia Bashir (28:35)

I'm in charge. You might get a quarter point for that.

Padraic Otuama (28:37)

Thank you. Thank you.

Samia Bashir (28:39)

All right, all right, quarter. Jason, do you know what the name of the book is called?

Major Jackson (28:44)

Old Possum's Book of Magical Cats.

Padraic Otuama (28:46)

That's right.

Samia Bashir (28:47)

Exactly. All right, all right, hold on. Let me just tally these scores up real quick. This is going to be like a recipe. It's like, all halves and quarters. All right, onto our next question. Who faced controversy for fabricating accounts of events in the 1980s? Was it Patricia Smith or Patti Smith?

Padraic Otuama (29:08)

It was the dearest Patricia Smith.

Micah Kilbon (29:11)

Absolutely dearest.

Padraic Otuama (29:13)

The dearest, most beautiful poet Patricia Smith.

Samia Bashir (29:17)

I just think it's because she's such a good writer.

Padraic Otuama (29:19)

She's an amazing writer.

Micah Kilbon (29:20)

Exactly.

Samia Bashir (29:20)

We love her. Yes. This is Patricia Smith's love on the show. I wanna be very clear. All right, Samia, that means you get one whole point. Onto our next question. Which poet removed the Y from her name because she didn't like the way.

Padraic Otuama (29:40)

I'm here to play, people. I'm here to play.

Samia Bashir (29:43)

You're not ready to play. Because she did not like the way the letter goes below the line.

Padraic Otuama (29:48)

Audre Lorde.

Major Jackson (29:49)

Yes.

Micah Kilbon (29:49)

Yes.

Samia Bashir (29:50)

Yes, it is.

Major Jackson (29:51)

Yeah.

Samia Bashir (29:51)

We are here to play you. Usually I'm silent so no one can cut me off.

Micah Kilbon (29:56)

That is an obscure fact about origin. Way to do your research.

Padraic Otuama (30:00)

I love it.

Samia Bashir (30:01)

I have always wondered, until we were researching for this, about the spelling.

Micah Kilbon (30:05)

Yeah.

Samia Bashir (30:07)

But I like how it is parallel.

Padraic Otuama (30:10)

The two both end in E. That's so Audre Lorde.

Samia Bashir (30:15)

Well, you guys are killing it. Onto our next question. Which poet filled their fountain pen with signature green ink?

Micah Kilbon (30:24)

Mm.

Samia Bashir (30:27)

Whisk.

Major Jackson (30:29)

Jason, do I lose points if I get it wrong? Am I allowed to guess? Like, do I have a penalty for guessing? No.

Samia Bashir (30:34)

No. You just don't get a guess again.

Major Jackson (30:36)

Oh, okay. Ezra Pound.

Micah Kilbon (30:37)

Ever.

Samia Bashir (30:38)

No.

Padraic Otuama (30:40)

Plath.

Samia Bashir (30:42)

No. Do we need a hint?

Jason Schneiderman (30:45)

Yeah.

Major Jackson (30:47)

Now there's a hint.

Samia Bashir (30:51)

They wrote in Spanish.

Padraic Otuama (30:53)

Lorca. No, you mean Neruda.

Samia Bashir (30:56)

Yeah.

Padraic Otuama (30:57)

Wow.

Micah Kilbon (30:58)

Wow.

Samia Bashir (30:58)

Pablo Neruda wrote in green, which he called the color of hope.

Padraic Otuama (31:02)

Oh.

Major Jackson (31:04)

My fountain pen is filled with an ink that is called writer's blood.

Samia Bashir (31:10)

You know, my first thought was the blood of children was just the joke that was gonna come out of your mouth.

Major Jackson (31:17)

That is actually the name of the ink in my fountain pen.

Micah Kilbon (31:19)

Right. I guess it doesn't write odes.

Major Jackson (31:21)

It does not.

Samia Bashir (31:24)

Screeds.

Major Jackson (31:26)

Sometimes elegies. Elegies.

Samia Bashir (31:30)

All right, onto our last question of the trivia round. This is kind of a bonus round because it's not a trivia question. It's a spelling a word backwards.

Padraic Otuama (31:38)

Oh.

Samia Bashir (31:39)

With your eyes closed.

Padraic Otuama (31:41)

Oh.

Samia Bashir (31:41)

All right, Onto our next question. Oh, the word. Well, all right. We have the slide. Because we're not.

Padraic Otuama (31:56)

Yeah, that makes sense.

Micah Kilbon (31:58)

I was gonna take a wild guess.

Samia Bashir (32:01)

Take a wild guess. Saudade.

Jason Schneiderman (32:07)

E. Padre.

Major Jackson (32:08)

It.

Jason Schneiderman (32:09)

E, D, A, D, U, A, S. That is correct. Woo.

Micah Kilbon (32:15)

Woo.

Major Jackson (32:17)

He doesn't have to close his eyes if there's not a picture of it in front of you.

Samia Bashir (32:21)

That's why I was gonna have you guys close your eyes.

Padraic Otuama (32:23)

Yeah, close your eyes. We close our eyes.

Samia Bashir (32:26)

This is how it works on the show.

Micah Kilbon (32:27)

That's how I write poems.

Samia Bashir (32:28)

We're scraping it together. That's how you write.

Micah Kilbon (32:29)

Close my eyes when I write poems.

Samia Bashir (32:31)

You close your eyes when you read poems.

Micah Kilbon (32:33)

You're right, I do, Says the producer.

Samia Bashir (32:37)

I shouldn't have outed you like that. I'm sorry. All right, at the end of our first round, I would like to update on scores. Major and Jason are both in the rear with half a point. Padre has one.

Padraic Otuama (32:48)

Yes.

Samia Bashir (32:49)

And Samia has three and a quarter.

Padraic Otuama (32:51)

Get out of here. Come on.

Samia Bashir (32:58)

All right, we are now on to our second game. Deluded illusions. We all know what an illusion is in the room. Does anybody want a refresher? I ask one of our panelists.

Micah Kilbon (33:14)

An allusion is a reference to a work of art or another poem or some mythological, biblical, pop cultural reference.

Samia Bashir (33:25)

And we're going to allude to famous poets.

Padraic Otuama (33:27)

Ooh.

Major Jackson (33:27)

Oh.

Samia Bashir (33:28)

All right, so what we're going to do is we are going to break into two teams. We'll just do it based on the side that you're on. So we'll have Major and Jason, Samia and Padraig. One team member will be blindfolded. And if you don't want to wear this, you can just cover your eyes or take your glasses off if that really does.

Major Jackson (33:48)

I want to wear the blindfold.

Samia Bashir (33:50)

Okay, good. You can wear it on this side, too, if you don't want to be all leopard print. For the audience at home podcast, we have a beautiful sleeping blindfold that is a little leopard print. All right, the rules are simple. You will have 60 seconds to guess as. So your partner, the blindfolded partner, will be guessing, and the other partner will be giving hints to the poet without naming any of their work. No books, no lines.

Major Jackson (34:18)

Just descriptors, like biographical events.

Samia Bashir (34:22)

You could also say what they look like, what egregious things they did, the names of their cats. I think. They're not that hard, I promise. And, Major, Jason, I'm much more comfortable telling you both what to do, so you're gonna go first.

Major Jackson (34:40)

Okay, let's do this.

Samia Bashir (34:42)

All right, who wants to be blindfolded? I guess Jason, you want to.

Major Jackson (34:46)

I mean, I said before I knew what the blindfolding was. I'll come bring it down to you. I'll stay committed.

Padraic Otuama (34:51)

I'll leopard print, please.

Major Jackson (34:54)

Leopard print out. Yes.

Micah Kilbon (34:59)

Testing my knowledge here.

Samia Bashir (35:01)

This is.

Major Jackson (35:01)

I should use this on the airplane.

Samia Bashir (35:04)

We can maybe work out. If you win that, that could be your prize.

Major Jackson (35:07)

Okay. I'm gonna be so sad when I lose the blindfold.

Samia Bashir (35:14)

All right, team one, are you ready let's do it. 60 seconds, starts now.

Micah Kilbon (35:22)

This person is from California.

Major Jackson (35:27)

Frank Bedard.

Micah Kilbon (35:29)

Dana Joya has a cover that is read.

Samia Bashir (35:34)

You can give personal.

Micah Kilbon (35:35)

I'll get personal. Is our current poet laureate.

Major Jackson (35:38)

Oh, Ada Lennon.

Micah Kilbon (35:39)

Yes. This person wrote a book called.

Samia Bashir (35:44)

No.

Micah Kilbon (35:44)

Okay.

Samia Bashir (35:44)

You can't do that.

Micah Kilbon (35:45)

This person.

Samia Bashir (35:46)

That's the one thing you can't do.

Micah Kilbon (35:47)

Okay. This person. If. If they were a baseball going out of the field, you would call them out. They're standing at. On the baseball field, and they are at which base?

Samia Bashir (36:03)

It was a really long time ago.

Major Jackson (36:05)

Diamond. Neil Diamond.

Micah Kilbon (36:08)

First. Second. Third.

Major Jackson (36:09)

But third. Fourth. Home.

Micah Kilbon (36:13)

Home. And if you turn that person to a poet named home.

Major Jackson (36:19)

Keep going home, Homer.

Micah Kilbon (36:22)

Yes. Thank you. Yeah.

Major Jackson (36:23)

Okay.

Micah Kilbon (36:23)

Okay. We were just talking in the back room about little blue people.

Major Jackson (36:29)

Oh, yes. Smurfs.

Micah Kilbon (36:30)

Yes. And what are you? You wrote a book, and you are a short person. You don't write fiction.

Major Jackson (36:39)

You write poetry.

Micah Kilbon (36:40)

And you are a poet. And the blue people.

Major Jackson (36:45)

Smurf.

Micah Kilbon (36:46)

Poet Smurf.

Major Jackson (36:47)

Poet Smurf.

Micah Kilbon (36:48)

Yes.

Samia Bashir (36:49)

Major, you said it first.

Micah Kilbon (36:51)

Oh, I did. Next.

Samia Bashir (36:54)

We were out of time. All right, a round of applause for.

Micah Kilbon (37:00)

Major and Jason, I like the diamond. You're not first, second, or third. You're fourth.

Major Jackson (37:09)

When I played Little League. This is true. Well, I play Little League.

Micah Kilbon (37:11)

Yeah.

Major Jackson (37:13)

The other second graders put together a committee to ask me to leave the team.

Samia Bashir (37:22)

As we're giving out quarter points. You get one quarter point for Poet Smurf. As you did say both words. Thank you. All right, Jason, would you so kindly pass the blindfold down to team two? Who wants the blindfold?

Padraic Otuama (37:38)

I think I'm gonna wear the blindfold, mostly just because I keep talking about the leopard print.

Samia Bashir (37:45)

All right, so we have Simia with the blindfold. Padraig is going to be giving the best clues ever.

Padraic Otuama (37:51)

The best clues ever.

Samia Bashir (37:53)

You only have two and a quarter points to go up against. I think you got this.

Jason Schneiderman (37:58)

That's a very biased adjudicator.

Padraic Otuama (38:01)

Challenge accepted.

Samia Bashir (38:03)

Support any team that's winning.

Jason Schneiderman (38:05)

Okay.

Samia Bashir (38:08)

All right, team two, are you ready?

Jason Schneiderman (38:10)

No.

Samia Bashir (38:11)

All right, well, we're going to. Well, we're going to continue anyways.

Padraic Otuama (38:14)

Marginally.

Samia Bashir (38:15)

All right, team two, 60 seconds starts now.

Jason Schneiderman (38:20)

Okay, so there. This is a poet who lived in Provincetown and then Mary Oliver. I don't know who this poet is. This is also not a poet, but it has recently released an album that referenced poets.

Padraic Otuama (38:39)

Oh, Taylor Swift.

Jason Schneiderman (38:43)

This is a poet from China. No, different. I don't know. Next.

Samia Bashir (38:56)

You don't just get next.

Jason Schneiderman (38:58)

What's that?

Samia Bashir (38:59)

I Don't think you get next.

Jason Schneiderman (39:00)

Oh, don't worry.

Padraic Otuama (39:01)

Is the name alliterative in any way?

Samia Bashir (39:05)

Let's take it back to the previous one.

Jason Schneiderman (39:07)

Okay.

Samia Bashir (39:08)

I believe in you.

Padraic Otuama (39:12)

How many words are in there?

Jason Schneiderman (39:13)

Oh, so there's five letters.

Micah Kilbon (39:15)

Good.

Padraic Otuama (39:17)

Five letters. You mean like Basho or something?

Samia Bashir (39:20)

Yeah.

Jason Schneiderman (39:23)

Boom, boom. Okay, so the first name of this poet is the opposite of old.

Samia Bashir (39:32)

That was it. That was 60 seconds.

Padraic Otuama (39:36)

We still dropped the mic.

Major Jackson (39:38)

That was amazing.

Micah Kilbon (39:40)

Why did you get Basho?

Jason Schneiderman (39:42)

That's amazing.

Samia Bashir (39:43)

I was gonna say there's also a form that they write in that has something to do with fives.

Padraic Otuama (39:47)

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Samia Bashir (39:50)

Basho, a Japanese poet wrote haikus.

Padraic Otuama (39:54)

Yes.

Samia Bashir (39:55)

All right, well, another round of applause for team two. Audience, what do we think? Do we think that we got Basho before the time ran out? I need a little. Yes. All right. All right. So, Sunia and Padraig, you get three points each.

Micah Kilbon (40:12)

Where's your loyalty?

Major Jackson (40:14)

Hi. Yeah.

Samia Bashir (40:16)

Loyalty, schmoylty.

Padraic Otuama (40:17)

Yeah.

Samia Bashir (40:19)

All right, we just have one more game. This is a little bit of a bonus round, so time for the last game of the evening. And this game is called Misquote or Improvement. We record a lot of episodes of the Slowdown. And what I found is that sometimes it's really easy to mess up someone else's poem because people write differently from each other. And we will sometimes say what we were thinking or what maybe the speaker we think of was thinking or just move around words to our natural way of speaking. My favorite incident of this was one time we were recording with Major, and the word in the poem was four bears. And Major said, four beers. It was at the end of the session, and we were tired, and we all turned on our microphone and just said, four beers here. And I think it was right. So I have four beers.

Major Jackson (41:22)

There are four of us.

Micah Kilbon (41:23)

There's four of us.

Padraic Otuama (41:24)

We're sitting right here.

Major Jackson (41:25)

Welcome.

Samia Bashir (41:26)

I don't get one.

Jason Schneiderman (41:27)

Sure.

Major Jackson (41:28)

All right.

Samia Bashir (41:28)

All right. Yeah, we can stretch it. So I just have one classic line that I think we can all improve upon. And so I'm gonna give you each the chance to improve upon this classic line of poetry. One of you can maybe explain to me how Tennyson's poems are named. But we're not going to get there today. But this is a classic line by Tennyson. I hold it true whate'er befall. I feel it when I sorrow most. Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I'm sure we've all heard this misquoted. Frequently. I didn't actually know this was a Tennyson quote until yesterday. And so I did my best at riffing on this. I think I have something better.

Padraic Otuama (42:17)

Okay.

Samia Bashir (42:18)

Tis better to have frolicked and fallen than never to have frolicked at all. So I think each of you can think of something better. So we're gonna again start with major. Cause you're the leader.

Major Jackson (42:33)

Ooh.

Samia Bashir (42:34)

And you know the way we're gonna judge this is the audience is gonna help us judge. So we're gonna read, everyone's gonna say their improvement, and then I'm gonna ask y'all to clap loudly at the end for whoever you think is the best. So hold your applause until the end here. But, you know, take notes. Take. Take good notes. All right, Major, what do you got?

Micah Kilbon (42:59)

So can I see your first slide? Your improvement? Tis better to have frolic and fallen than never to have frolicked at all. So I have to come up with something pretty bad. Something bad? You want something bad?

Samia Bashir (43:14)

Mine. Well, mine is bad.

Micah Kilbon (43:15)

Okay. It's better to. Oh, yeah. Tis better to have texted. No, it's better. Tis better to have phoned and call than never to have texted at all.

Samia Bashir (43:35)

Sounds like you're talking to your kid.

Micah Kilbon (43:39)

That's the space I'm in right now.

Samia Bashir (43:45)

All right, Jason, what do we got?

Major Jackson (43:46)

All right, well, since you put fictional poets in my head, the best I've got is, Tis better to have smurfed and unsmurfed than never to have smurfed at all.

Padraic Otuama (44:00)

Well done, Sarah.

Major Jackson (44:01)

How do you unsurf it's not smurfy when you unsurf.

Samia Bashir (44:10)

Any other panelists have ideas about what smurfing is?

Padraic Otuama (44:13)

So many ideas.

Jason Schneiderman (44:14)

It's a multi purpose word.

Samia Bashir (44:17)

I see, Samia.

Padraic Otuama (44:20)

Well, so my brain is stuck in this old, was it 70s or 80s TV show, the Newlywed Game. Yeah. And we talk about making whoopee. And so I feel like it is better to have whoopied and been bored than never to have whoopied at all. But here's the thing is, I realized. I don't know that I agree with myself.

Samia Bashir (44:43)

Yeah.

Major Jackson (44:44)

I was like, I don't.

Padraic Otuama (44:44)

I don't know that I agree with myself.

Samia Bashir (44:47)

That might be a question for another podcast.

Major Jackson (44:51)

It's one of those things where you're like, you can't do it wrong. But actually, if you're bored. Yeah, you're doing it wrong. Yeah.

Padraic Otuama (45:00)

Set you up just right, Patrick.

Micah Kilbon (45:01)

Yeah. Yeah.

Samia Bashir (45:02)

I'm ready for you.

Jason Schneiderman (45:03)

I am going to bring the tone right down Tis better to have lived and died than never to have lived at all.

Micah Kilbon (45:12)

Yeah.

Samia Bashir (45:13)

Wow, we're getting really mortality based up here.

Jason Schneiderman (45:18)

We are.

Padraic Otuama (45:19)

We're poets and whoopee time.

Samia Bashir (45:21)

Don't forget the whoopee a little behind the scenes, slowdown moment. I remember Ada told me once, which is classic, that all poems are about death. And I'm sure that's quoted from somebody else, but Ada Limone was the person who told me that first. And I put it in some copy one time, and our former editor made me take it out because he said it was a little too macabre. And I was like, it's poetry, please. And it didn't make it past. All right, so I have. I'm not gonna tell you the scores before we get the audience input. So audience, I'd like to hear. And I'm just gonna judge this based off of my very, very, you know, authoritative ear on who is clapping the loudest. All right, what do we think about major? Can you repeat yours really quickly?

Micah Kilbon (46:09)

Tis better to have phoned and called his member, audience member, than not to have texted at all.

Samia Bashir (46:19)

All right, what do we think about majors? All right, Jason, you repeat yourself.

Micah Kilbon (46:27)

At least I gotta clap. Thank you.

Major Jackson (46:31)

Tis better to have smurfed and unsmurfed than never to have smurfed at all.

Samia Bashir (46:36)

All right, crowd. Samia.

Padraic Otuama (46:42)

Tis better to have whoopied and been bored than never to have whoopied.

Samia Bashir (46:55)

And Padra. Could you repeat yours?

Jason Schneiderman (46:57)

Tis better to have lived and died than never to have lived at all.

Samia Bashir (47:08)

There was a clear winner there. And I'm gonna give is death is death.

Padraic Otuama (47:14)

Death is in fact.

Micah Kilbon (47:15)

The winner wins again.

Major Jackson (47:18)

Yeah.

Samia Bashir (47:21)

And you're gonna get two points for that.

Micah Kilbon (47:23)

Any runner ups?

Samia Bashir (47:27)

I'll go in order.

Major Jackson (47:29)

All right.

Samia Bashir (47:29)

Are we excited to hear who won our game tonight?

Padraic Otuama (47:32)

Yes.

Samia Bashir (47:37)

One moment, please. All right, that is our game. And the winner is. Well, let me tell you, first. In fourth place and, well, tie for third and a tie for third, I have our former guest host and our current host of the Slowdown, Major Jackson and Jason Schneiderman. Two and three quarters points. Two and three quarters points. But you guys stayed together and I think that's really important.

Micah Kilbon (48:09)

Long time friends.

Major Jackson (48:10)

Yes.

Samia Bashir (48:11)

All right. In third place, the host of our competitor podcast, Poetry Unbound, six points, is Padraig Otuuma Woo. And in first place, if any producers are listening, let's get this person a podcast with six and a quarter points.

Padraic Otuama (48:34)

Yes.

Samia Bashir (48:34)

Samia Bashir.

Padraic Otuama (48:36)

Come on, Foulum. Yes. Poems, poems, poems, poems, poems.

Samia Bashir (48:43)

Well, thank you all so much for playing. Thank you so much, audience, for your beautiful applause and your participation. I'm going to pass it back to major to maybe slow things down a little bit after all of that high.

Micah Kilbon (48:54)

Energy activity, all that whoopee.

Samia Bashir (48:57)

I don't think that's how you use that word.

Micah Kilbon (49:00)

Whoopee is like. John.

Padraic Otuama (49:02)

Oh my God, I was literally about to say that.

Micah Kilbon (49:04)

Right?

Padraic Otuama (49:04)

It's exactly like that.

Micah Kilbon (49:06)

Yeah, yeah.

Padraic Otuama (49:10)

Excuse us. We're having a moment.

Micah Kilbon (49:12)

We're having a moment. Samia, congratulations. How does it feel to win your first poetry?

Padraic Otuama (49:18)

I am ecstatic. Let me tell you, poems and poetry is already a win for me. I find poems to be just winning. And so to win at poems is like what.

Micah Kilbon (49:35)

Padraic and Jason, how do you feel?

Major Jackson (49:40)

This is my second time losing at poetry Games. I also lost the Poetry Olympics at the Brooklyn Brewery in Brooklyn in 2001. And you still feel this pain? The shame of my public poetry game losses continues to accrue.

Jason Schneiderman (50:04)

In the car on the way over here, Jason was telling me that we were going to be playing something like celebrity literary death match. Literary death match. And so I'm just relieved that we're alive.

Padraic Otuama (50:18)

And I'm just going to hold somebody to this leopard print blindfold. Just saying it's really nice blindfold.

Micah Kilbon (50:24)

It really is. That was fun. And I want to thank our game master, Micah Kilbon, which kind of leads me to this question about poetry and humor and joy. How do we cultivate more of this?

Padraic Otuama (50:49)

You know, I tell my students, for instance, like, don't forget this is fun. Yeah, like this is fun. You get to make play with language and make work and like do stuff. Like it's exciting, it's new, it's. Yes. It's like writing. You get used to this idea of like, you're alone and you're blah, blah, blah. It's really hard to be dark or whatever. But it's like. But also like even the darkness I've liked to insult like moments where I go, hehehe, it's the Easter eggs of poetry, these lanes, these moments, these whatever that just levitate you a little bit.

Major Jackson (51:24)

Yeah, I think humor doesn't get valued enough or it doesn't get valued in the right ways. Like it sort of needs all these like, apologies for it. But for me, I always go back to the idea that like in psychoanalysis, humor is often that which touches the unconscious. That all this kind of like really deep subterranean stuff that we don't have access to in our conscious brains. The joke is the thing that pulls it up. And I know, like for me, in analysis, which I've been in, I'm in Lacanian analysis. I know it's a shock to everyone, but when I have a breakthrough, I laugh like whatever I discover is so funny. And that's kind of how I know something has come up. So I think that if we can kind of also think about humor as. As discovery that like, the laugh isn't just kind of, you know, a feel good moment that passes, but the laugh is a discovery, then we can find kind of more space for humor in our poetry, in our work.

Jason Schneiderman (52:31)

I think I have two ideas about how to cultivate joy. And humor in your poetry is. First is to read Chen Chen. Yeah, Chen Chen is extraordinary. And I anytime. It's been a long time since I've heard anybody put humor down because, like, it's difficult to be funny in. In poems. And Chen Chen just keeps on doing it, I think, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not. And there's another poet, Amanda Quaid, who's got a book coming out soon. And Amanda went through a terrible health diagnosis and chose to wrote about some of those diagnoses in limericks. And like, we should all write limericks. And it is funny and serious and like, I can you do that? She did. So there it is right in front of you. So I think writing a limerick is a great idea too.

Micah Kilbon (53:20)

Yeah, it has me think of one of your poems, Padraic, that I might request when we come around to your reading. So I want to just say the joy that you've been bringing to me and your poems has been steady throughout, and this is why I admire your work. The other side of that, of course, is that I was thinking about this poem we just featured on the Slowdown that hasn't aired yet. And one of the lines from the poet Kate Daniels is that life will bring you to your knees, and if you're lucky, you survive through it. And in a way, poetry allows us to do that too. It allows us to laugh, but also to kind of capture. Capture these moments. I'm thinking about poetry as savior, poetry as healing, poetry as hope. Is there one book of yours or poem that you can pinpoint that you needed to write in order to be who you are and where you are at this present moment?

Jason Schneiderman (54:46)

I think there's a small book called Feed the Beast, which is out with broken sleep books. And yeah, when I was a teenager, in my early 20s, I got put through exorcisms and reparative therapies for getting rid of the gay in me, deliciously unsuccessful. All the gay devils are alive and well and making more gay devils. And many years later, the first thing that came to my mind was a sequence called Seven Deadly Sonnets, a bit of a play on seven deadly sins. And that book is written with something like rage, but without the rage controlling me. It's written with, like, creative rage. And it was so enjoyable to write it and cathartic, to celebrate and to take, you know, abusive language that was put upon a teenager and to turn it around and go, you think your language was bad? Watch what I can do. And it felt like such a celebration. It took almost 20 years before I could think about that. And it's not like I was burdened. I mostly. I spent most of my time trying to forget those idiots. But it was nice when I. When I was far enough from it to be able to look back without a sense of revenge, but with a deep sense of making. So that's the book, I think.

Micah Kilbon (56:09)

Thank you for those poems.

Jason Schneiderman (56:10)

That helped. Yeah.

Micah Kilbon (56:11)

Yeah.

Padraic Otuama (56:14)

Yes. I have to say, I. I'm stuck on something that I don't know that I would have thought would be my answer. But it's a poem from my second book, Gospel, called Topographic Shifts. And that's maybe one of my quietest. My quietest book. But, you know, random factoid, like, I and my little sister both were born with six fingers and six toes. So, you know, you're welcome for evolving, but, you know, obviously they dealt with that as infants. Right. And so there's a. You know, there's a line in there that's something about kind of, like, the necessity to, like, remake the body in the image of a body. And something about wrestling with that, I think, has had a lot to do with opening space for other things I've been able to write.

Micah Kilbon (57:05)

Yeah.

Major Jackson (57:08)

When I started writing poems when I was young, you know, like, 12, 14, 15, I was doing it in a very, very heavily coded way so that I could have something that was my own, that no one else could understand, that I needed. I felt so incomprehensible that leaning into incomprehensibility kind of made me intelligible to myself. And so sort of just embracing that was really important for the beginning of my development as a writer. But then there came a moment when I really had to be able to talk about myself directly. And when I was sort of in graduate school, like, for most of my undergraduate years, I could. You know, it was very. It was no longer coded, but it was highly elusive. That there was, like, A lot of mythology. There was a lot of allegory. And I can only speak about myself allegorically. And then when I was in graduate school, I was working. Just sonnets were, like, all over me. And I was working. I was Phyllis Levin's assistant on the Penguin Book of the Sonnet. And so I was spending every day working on these sonnets. And I was taking a Pushkin class. I was reading Evgenion in Russian at not very well, but in this graduate seminar. And I went to this reading by Sharon Olds. And she said that there's a kind of magic you can do with a poem where if you're really afraid of something, write the poem where it happens. And nine times out of ten, it won't happen. And so I did that. I was really afraid of something. And I wrote very directly about my experience in this particular sonnet. And it's called the Disease Collector. It's in my first collection. It's the first poem in my first collection, and it's the last poem in the Penguin Book of the Sonnet. And that was a really powerful breakthrough for me. That was the poem that kind of, like, turned something inside me where I could speak directly in the ways that I needed to and I could be seen and show myself, like, to others and to myself in that kind of way that let me release that training wheel set of coding.

Micah Kilbon (59:24)

Yeah. I'm tempted to ask, to respond, but I wanted to get to the poems. But I'm going to ask maybe a audience member to ask this question about vulnerability, because there's something quite beautiful about all of this. All of what you're saying touches at the edge of the unsayable and where that puts us in relationship to our work and to each other and the healing work of community. But, Samia, let's hear a poem.

Padraic Otuama (59:55)

Yes. All right. We will hear a poem, darlings. So I'm thrilled to. So in the middle of this new book called I Hope this Helps is a poem that is also in a new collection called Invisible Strings, where they asked a number of us poets to write in response to a Taylor Swift song, which is literally how I knew about that. Hello. Winning poems. But. And as not a Taylor Swift fan, it was fascinating to me to see what everybody did and to find a poem, a song that actually really just drove me to poetry. And so in the middle of this book is. Is this. It's called Wabenzi Walks. Wabenzi is an African term. I suggest you look it up because it's kind of a thing. Wabenzi walks because voices like bodies shadow linger and are torn apart and linger are torn apart and linger like the thousand eyes of night. A scorpion, a Cuyahoga. A river burns awake cries that were the mom, not the kid. But wait. We are not a fairy tale. Even fairies fail our families sometimes somewheres. Why did you leave? Years ago, Metric's combat baby was all over my face feed. At the time it was right on time. And all I wanted was to remain unlooked at even today, sort of just like other people. Here's the thing. I don't want to hold on to you, dear. I don't even want to hold you. Why should I? Have you seen me? Lucky, Lucky. I hope you are held though. Well, just also point of privilege says the board of directors directing all the women how to brush their hair in mirrors on film. Why didn't you leave? Low priced luxury goods. Click like. But wait. No kings, no horses. Ideally no men. Fire emoji. We eat ourselves until we're gone. Well, I do. How about you? Fire emoji. And the colored girls. Click Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. I'm listening. Here you are. Yes. You hear? A night flight lit from my fire. Asleep while I need to dance. Look at you. Fire emoji. You hear? You cut. R. Hear me? Sh. Listen. Repeat. Footsteps. Sh. Listen. Repeat. Thank you.

Micah Kilbon (63:39)

Thank you. Sameia Padraick, could you take us out tonight with one of your poems?

Padraic Otuama (63:43)

Sure.

Jason Schneiderman (63:50)

I think most of us have conversations with the dead. And so here are. Here's a little litany of thanks to my dead friends. It's called the Long Table. Today I get up early because Mag said it's the best time of the day. She wore yellow trousers and oxblood boots and died when she was 20. And Georgie told me to be thankful when I'm busy. Relish everything you're doing, she said to me that Saturday. Dead by Friday. So I make time in demands to remember. And when I read a book, I place my hand on it and honor Glenn, who worshiped words and friendship. He packed three times love into half a life. And when I swear, I swear from my gut, breathing out the words like smoke. Just like Kahal said I should. I saw his mother at his grave a few years ago. She smiled and said, you come here too. Not a question, just a statement. I say what I need to say because of Graham. Faithful as foundations and as hidden. And though I never met him, I think about Ignatius every day down by My prayer tree. Jerry said a lot can be achieved with precision and a bit of patience. He sang songs to Rivers. I listened for his voice. Eugene cut logs into his 90s and lit lovely, lively fires. I light candles when I can. Dan made handmade gifts, so I do too. Bridget wrote a letter every day. I managed two last year. Brendan tried to mediate all things, singing kitchen hymns every morning, no matter where he was. I hear his sweet humming as I pick up my guitar and strum.

Micah Kilbon (66:00)

These poems honor us in so many different ways. And I think to sum up a line I take time to remember. It's a beautiful sentiment that we all do in our poems. We are going to move to the Q and A now. So, audience members, we have a mic that will come around to you. We'll ask you to speak into the mic. Thank you for bringing up the lights. Questions?

Samia Bashir (66:38)

We got any questions in the house? Well, I can ask you to speak to Major. You wanted to talk about vulnerability. Shall we take it away on stage while the questions ruminate in the crowd and continue to talk a little bit?

Micah Kilbon (66:54)

Sure. Wondering if some would argue that vulnerability is a prerequisite to engaging the imagination and engaging language and putting those two together as an expression of selfhood or maybe even as. I think you and I talked about this once, Padraic. Righting ourselves in the way that we discover who we are. And I think that's another kind of vulnerability. But I'm wondering if that's a word that operates in how you see yourselves as writers, as artists.

Jason Schneiderman (67:37)

Well, I think it's a vulnerable thing to make because it's always embarrassing. I think in a certain sense, maybe embarrassing is the wrong word, but it's always vulnerable. I used to work with young people in conflict mediation in West Belfast. And one time we got a bunch of young people with some air drying clay each to make the shape of anger. And this one guy made something. It just was a small round shape, like a football. But out of it he had what looked like these jagged leaves. They were paper thin. It was extraordinary. It's just on a Friday night in West Belfast and when everybody was sharing what they were making, he said, it's a bomb. And one of the fellows next to him just slammed it down. And because it was beautiful, like it really was a stunning piece that he'd made in 10 minutes. And there was something unfortunately so true about the way within which he was so vulnerable. And somebody else just shot it down, slammed it, literally broke what he'd made. And I felt like there were Layers and layers in that interaction that there was something too true about the art that he'd made and somebody else felt the need to break it. And I think that's the point of vulnerability in art. And it's important to me to bring myself there, whether you're using illusion to go back to our games or mythology or all kinds of other forms, that somehow something in me has got to that edge where I'm making something and at the edge of breaking it as well.

Major Jackson (69:13)

Yeah, being vulnerable means that someone can hurt you, that you're putting yourself in a position where someone has the power to hurt you, and you're offering that to them and hoping that they won't. And I think that that has that in the poem. It's not vulnerability in the same way that it is in a relationship. But, yeah, you have to expose yourself in a way that if you don't, the poem won't have the power that it needs. But it does mean that there's that kind of risk in there that. That you can. I don't. I mean, I try so hard to not be vulnerable in very large parts of my life, but in the poem, there's. You can't. Like, when you've done it, you know, you've done it Right. And so I don't know if I'm being coherent right now, but, yeah, it's a little bit scary.

Micah Kilbon (70:28)

You're making a lot of sense to me.

Padraic Otuama (70:30)

Yeah, Well, I think that's also. That goes back to why humor is so important. You know, I mean, I think, you know, the class clown is usually like, one of the most vulnerable kids in the room, you know, and there's a way that when we're dealing with just rawing ourselves, showing our, you know, entrails and putting them out there for someone else to judge. And even that idea that I'm putting it out there for you to judge rather than to see, like, oh, we all have entrails. You're like me, you know, is where humor kind of can save us, you know, allow us to kind of be vulnerable in a way that, like, you know, as a poet, like, I'm like a person, like, who's like, I love fun, et cetera, et cetera. But I'm also a very serious person. And to be able to meditate and work through that seriousness requires being able to have humor and not take oneself so seriously so that the vulnerability doesn't destroy us.

Micah Kilbon (71:39)

Yes, we have a question right here. Let me ask you to wait for the mic. Thanks.

Samia Bashir (71:49)

Say your name Great.

Major Jackson (71:52)

Hi, I'm Martine. So I know we all lean into poetry for various reasons and the tenderness that you all share is this portal that you've all spoken about in your work.

Micah Kilbon (72:03)

And I was thinking about, I'm paraphrasing.

Major Jackson (72:06)

But Banu Kapil, an amazing writer, wrote to me once about the ability that we need to dream and grieve at once.

Padraic Otuama (72:13)

Yes.

Major Jackson (72:13)

And it was this prompt that really.

Micah Kilbon (72:16)

Helped me through a difficult time.

Major Jackson (72:18)

And I wondered if there was a prompt or advice that you all have received in your writing, in Tender Moments, because I come back to that passage from Banu often.

Micah Kilbon (72:28)

That's a great question. Thank you, Martine.

Padraic Otuama (72:30)

Absolutely. I go back to my previous book, Field Theories was in the making. And I was sitting and having lunch with the poet Claudia Rankin, and she had read some of the poems and was reflecting back what I was doing. But, you know, it was a hard, it was hard work. And I quote this in further word, it's so simple, it's just keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going.

Micah Kilbon (73:02)

One of my favorite exercises for students is to write a self portrait poem. Write a poem to yourself. This emerges in various ways. Some people will write a letter to their younger self in this kind of consoling, beautiful, heartrending way that really is them writing a letter to who they are. Now. The other self portrait poem I think has to do with giving your. You know, Whitman said we contain multitudes. And I think that's a great exercise for any writer to imagine the various parts of themselves that don't show up in their day to day interaction. And that has been really radically a very radical pedagogical tool for me with students who are not allowed to be themselves in their day to day lives. And what emerges out of that is some very powerful words that all of us in the room together can acknowledge and say, welcome into the world. And it's been just a gorgeous. I've been teaching a self portrait poem for almost a decade and a half now. It's one of the most powerful, I think, assignments you can give to yourself in America. There was an editor who gave this assignment to writers after Borges, the great Argentinian writer who first. I shouldn't say first, but he popularized it by writing a piece called Borges and I. Yeah.

Jason Schneiderman (75:02)

Marie Howe has a great prompt that she gives which is to say, you know, that thing you want to write about that event, what happened next door, or what about the next day, to just expand time and space in very tangible ways. Marie has this Book about her, one of her, her second youngest brother who died of HIV related complications in 1989, I think, or 1990. And I asked her once, I said, what happened right after? And she said, one of the siblings, there's nine siblings. And one of the siblings said, I'll make sandwiches for everybody. And then when the sandwiches were made, somebody said, you know, I hate ham. Somebody else said, give me the ham, give me the ham, give me the ham. And she said, while that was happening, we heard a body bag being closed and so much is there. And it's about the room next door. And I think that's a very tangible way to expand these seemingly abstract concepts of time and space, to literally look at next door or right before or right after.

Major Jackson (76:20)

I think that for me, the poem is kind of this journey to coherence. And that when I get to the other side of the poem, when the poem is finished, I make sense in the poem, and the poem makes sense in a way that I don't feel like I do on a day to day basis. And the poem is smarter than I am, the poem knows more than I do. And the exercise that I often give people and that I use myself is to write the poem and turn the page and write the poem again, and turn the page and write the poem again. And you don't realize how many different versions and how many different tangents happen when you do that. And then as you kind of put them all together, then that kind of coherence can come out of that process.

Micah Kilbon (77:04)

Wow. We have two questions up here. Mike.

Samia Bashir (77:15)

Ask you to say your name. The microphone. Tony, grieving question.

Major Jackson (77:18)

Yes, hi.

Samia Bashir (77:20)

My question is about how you decide.

Major Jackson (77:22)

Where to direct your vision. Because a lot of poetry can vary. The eyes are turning back onto your.

Samia Bashir (77:27)

Own experience as opposed to turning your eyes outward to somewhere else.

Major Jackson (77:32)

And how does that, how do you weigh that? How does that come about for each of you or any of you?

Micah Kilbon (77:45)

One of the most important evolutions in my writing life occurred when I decided that I was going to turn the gaze inward. Had been a political poet, I'd been an activist on campus. My inheritance of poets like Amiri Baraka and Sonia Sanchez was to kind of speak to the realities of injustice that made for an important poem and an important utterance. But I started to read poets. Some of them actually appeared on screen for whom it was as radical to turn the gaze towards the self. And in fact, I realized to some extent the rage that I was expressing was because it was not systematic or structural, but it was Very, very local. Now, there's a relationship, of course, but it has allowed me to be comfortable with. Which not all poets are to be comfortable with. And this is maybe a bias as a reader, too, with folks who are going to lay bare and be vulnerable. And give us both the political edges of our reality, but also those edges of ourselves that we shut down. And I am ever grateful because I know these poems were written out of circumstances that were quite acute. In some instances, the pressures were emotionally high. But there's a certain kind of courage, I think. Now. I write about the natural world. I write about family. I write about, much to the chagrin of my family, some of what's happened in our lives. But I so believe we throw it all in. The music we listen to, the movies that we see. It all finds a way and has a space. The poets that we read, the philosophers that we encounter. My barber shows up in my poem. I think it's a great way of pushing yourself, I think, away from the solipsism that can happen when you also gaze outward. And there's this dance, I think, in between the two. Maybe dependent upon the poem that's being written at that time.

Major Jackson (80:34)

I wish I could control my obsessions. I wish I were in charge of what it is that keeps churning through me. And that needs to kind of come out in the poems and that I need the poem to make sense of. And so what I don't know, that worries me, that kind of pushes itself to the surface is. Is to some extent out of my control. Which sounds silly, but I'm not a mystic. And yet it does often feel like that travels through me in a way that I can't decide on. And sometimes the poems are. I don't show them to anyone because I think they might hurt someone. Because I think that they. I just don't want to send them into the world. But those obsessions are not under my control.

Padraic Otuama (81:30)

You know, I think a lot about pronouns, just as a writer, right. You know, but for me, as a person, I realize clearly, like, the only pronoun that really makes sense for me is the Jamaican I and I, right? I and I, all of we are one. And so then I also trace back to. I moved to LA when I was, like, 19 and studied with this crazy old vaudevillian. And he had this phrase Dr. Desmond called awareness is the chief motivation to art. And he forced us to kind of say this again and again. And for me, that idea of awareness is outside. And inside is the I that is you. And the I. That is me. And so I really must be engaged with both. I can't be lost in myself because it's easy to then forget that myself is also yourself.

Jason Schneiderman (82:34)

I think for me, the intuition for me when writing a poem is towards sound and feeling. And often I'm choosing language that is based on an intuitive approach to sound and feeling that's in response to something that's drawing me out. And that can often be a music that I'm trying to tune myself into rather than something that I feel like I'm composing. What I can do is to try to see. The Irish word for poet is filler, which comes from the same root word as to see. And so therefore, I'm interested in the midst of sound and feeling, to place furniture into the space of the poem that is demonstrating that whether I'm looking out or looking in, that I'm trying to see something. And I'm hesitant ever to say that there is a morality to writing, but that is where I try to put a morality to my imagination to make sure that I'm not just seeing something that's convenient for me.

Micah Kilbon (83:34)

That's wonderful. I want to honor someone's hand. We run out of time, but maybe one of us could. The young lady right here.

Samia Bashir (83:43)

Yeah, Mine's kind of less depressing, if that makes you feel any better. Oh, okay. Hi. Sorry. I normally wouldn't ask this question, but I had this conversation in the car, so I was just curious. I've been kind of writing poems since I was 15, and I'm 27 now, so I have a lot of files of poems that I believe are truly terrible. And I hoard them. And I write titles like Horrible Poem that I Think Will Never See the Light of Day or Sucky Thing that I don't know why I wrote this. And I just keep them there. And I don't know if I keep them there for humility or if I think that I'll find inspiration in them one day or what. And I just want to know, am I the only one who has a weird poem hoarding problem? For things that you truly believe are bad, that you have written.

Padraic Otuama (84:35)

I think you're doing it right.

Major Jackson (84:38)

Parasite. Giant yellow binder. And I know exactly. I mean, I'm older than you are, so it was, you know, they're all on actual loose leaf paper in a yellow binder. Yes. And I know exactly where they are. And if ever I think that I. You know, if ever I think that a poem is so bad that I don't think a poet has a future. It's right there and I can check, right?

Micah Kilbon (85:04)

Yeah. Well, we are out of time and I want to thank our guests Padraig, Samia and Jason.

Samia Bashir (85:22)

And a round of applause. A round of applause for our host, Major Jackson as well.

Micah Kilbon (85:32)

The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts. On the web@arts.gov to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram Instagram at Slowdown show and blueskylowdownshow.org our lead producer is Micah Kilbon and our associate producer is Maria Wartel. Our music is composed by Alexis Cuadrado, engineering by Josh Savageo. From La Est John Kohn, Vice President, Audience and Community engagement Rebecca Stummy, Senior Producer, Live Programming and events Tony Federico, Technical Director of Live Events Lorena Nader, Audience Experience Manager Michael Leyva, on Call Technician Laura Dukes and Colin Haskins, on Call Coordinators. Our executives in charge of APM Studios are Chandra Kavati and Joanne Griffith. Happy National Poetry Month from all of us at the Slowdown. We celebrate National Poetry Month every April, but you rely on the Slowdown for inspiration and insight all year long. Today I'm asking you to give back by making a gift to the Slowdown. Support from listeners like you makes this podcast possible. Contribute today@slowdownshow.org donate or find the link in the show notes. Thank you.