~ Delta Poetry Review ~ |
||||
- Interview and Book Review - |
||||
Larry D. Thomas Interview by Dixon Hearne Thank you for sitting down with us today. I know you’re a busy person. We are so pleased to talk to you about your inspiring poetics, and we know our readers will enjoy what you have to share with us.
DPR:
When and where did poetics take root in your creative life? Were you
immediately consumed with desire?
LT:
The first time I remember being “struck by lightning” with poetics was
when I was in middle school and was instructed to memorize and
subsequently recite to the class Poe’s “Raven.” I shall never forget the
pulsing rhythms of Poe’s lines and the powerful musicality of his word
sounds. As haunting as the meaning of the poem certainly is, I was so
absorbed by the rhythmic musicality of its language that the poem’s
meaning was only of secondary importance to me.
Another “lightning moment” of my interest in poetry occurred when I took
an upper-level course in modern American poetry during my studies at the
University of Houston, where I earned a bachelor’s degree in English
literature in 1970. The professor of the course was brilliant and led
the class through an in-depth study of a number of modern American
masters, including Wallace Stevens, Hart Crane, Robert Frost, Emily
Dickinson, and T. S. Eliot. A large percentage of my own poetry stems
directly from my creative imagination, and to a significant extent, I
attribute that defining aspect of my work to the primacy of imagination
in the poems of Stevens.
At the time I received my B. A. degree in English literature and was
drawn particularly to the genre of poetry, I never thought about writing
poems myself. My plan was to continue my studies in literature, obtain a
doctorate, and teach in a university. Life, however, had other plans for
me. Very early during the year I graduated from college, my wife gave
birth to our lovely daughter, and later that year, I was drafted into
military service immediately upon obtaining my degree. I spent four
years in the U. S. Navy as a correctional counselor in the naval
correctional facility in Norfolk, VA. Early in my military service, I
was mysteriously compelled, completely out of the blue, to write a poem
about a brilliant sunset I witnessed with thousands of birds spiraling
from the sky to their roosting places, and I never stopped composing
poems from that time on. It was as if I were “called” to write poetry
that evening in Norfolk, Virginia, as strange as it may seem. After my
discharge from the U. S. Navy, I was employed in the adult probation
field for twenty-three years until I retired in 1998. From 1998 to the
present, I have been privileged to write poetry on a full-time basis.
DPR:
How important do you think it is to experiment with form, or to at least
have background knowledge of the way certain forms of poetry work?
LT:
I think experimentation with form is critical to the development of any
serious poet. Although most of my poetry is written in free verse, I
have also composed and published quite a number of poems in form. My
form poems are generally rhymed couplets, tercets, or quatrains. When I
write in form, I attempt to employ a lot of slant rhymes so subtly
utilized that the reader may not even notice that the poem is written in
form. In my opinion, the employment of too many pure rhymes may make a
poem amateurishly “sing-songy.”
DPR:
What kind of poetry or aesthetics appeals to you? Any specific example?
LT:
I love all kinds of poetry, both classical and contemporary, which
reflect a high degree of poetic craft. A poet should approach the
crafting of a poem as an accomplished sculptor approaches the shaping of
wet clay. Words are to the poet what notes are to the musician; pigment
to the painter; and precise physical movement to the ballerina or
danseur.
When I was a small child
and received my first set of wooden alphabet blocks, I clearly remember
the joy of learning to arrange them into simple words. That experience
made me see letters and words as three-dimensional building blocks which
I could one day arrange into towering cathedrals of poems.
DPR:
What is it about the American Southwest and the South that turns your
thoughts to poetry? Where do you feel most at home?
LT:
I feel equally at home in both West Texas and the American South.
Although I was born and grew up in the harsh and somewhat alien
landscapes of West Texas, I moved to Houston at the age of twenty and
resided there for forty-four years. I have always been intrigued by the
dichotomy of harshness and incomparable beauty which characterize
Western landscapes, and I have frequently incorporated them into what I
consider to be much of my best poetry. I firmly believe that the use of
“place” by a poet is merely a blueprint he/she can follow to achieve the
“universal.”
Although much of my work, especially that in my early collections of
poems, is indisputably “Western” in both landscape and cultural
ambiance, it stems almost entirely from my creative imagination as I
have never actually lived on a ranch, raised cattle, etc. In fact, my
bloodline heritage is deeply Southern. Three of my grandparents and my
paternal great-grandfather were born and reared in the Mississippi Delta
(western Tennessee and Mississippi) and relocated to West Texas in the
late eighteen-hundreds (my paternal grandfather was born in Texas). All
of them worked their entire lives as tenant cotton farmers and
hand-picked cotton, much like the Black slaves on the plantations. Even
my mother and father, who were thirty-nine and forty years old,
respectively, at the time of my birth, hand-picked cotton into their
late twenties when my father went to work at a Mobil service station. In
my early childhood I was fascinated by the countless stories I heard
from my parents and
my grandparents about their experiences on the tenant farms. In addition
to these stories, I grew up on Southern “comfort food,” immersed in
voices of Southern dialect.
My
“place poems” are not limited to West Texas and the American South. One
of my book-length collections of poems, The Lobsterman’s Dream: Poems
of the Coast of Maine, is set entirely on the ruggedly beautiful
Maine coastline.
DPR:
You have received many awards and wide recognition for your excellent
writing. How do you approach writing poetry? Is it generally
mood-driven, image-driven, emotion-driven, place-driven, or
event-driven?
LT:
When I begin the composition of a poem, I often have no idea what the
subject matter of the poem will be. My poems often start with a single
image, an image around which words begin to coalesce, first into phrases
and ultimately into poetic lines. I spend whatever time is necessary,
usually a few hours, and remain at my desk until I complete a rough
first draft of the poem. I will then spend a great deal of time revising
the poem until I get it where I feel it needs to be. I learned early in
my writing career the importance of both “play” and “concentration” in
the composition of good poetry. I sincerely believe that the urge to
creativity continually rages in the poet’s psyche like a swift river and
that the poet, as if with an empty cup, may still a tiny portion of that
river and work it into a poem, with hard, focused concentration and a
little good fortune!
DPR:
Drawing on your long and celebrated career, what pearls of wisdom might
you share with novice poets?
LT:
I would share this: 1) Read, read, and never quit reading all of the
good poetry, both past and present, you can get your hands on; 2) Study
the craft of poetry as if you were a novice jeweler learning how to cut
and polish a precious stone to perfection; 3) Dedicate as much time as
absolutely possible to writing on a regular basis; and 4) Never, under
any circumstances, stop believing in your poetry’s worth.
DPR:
Who influences/inspires your approach to poetry writing? Do you often
find yourself writing in the same voice or style?
LT:
My influences are the great literary masters who have preceded me and a
number of poets who are still working. I write in numerous voices and
styles, determined entirely by what best serves the individual poem on
which I am working.
|
||||
Book Review by David Armand |
||||
In a Field of Cotton: Mississippi Delta Poems by Larry D. Thomas Blue Horse Press, 2019 ISBN:978-0578466200 Cover art: Photograph by Jeffery C. Alfier |
||||
In his latest collection,
In a Field of Cotton: Mississippi River
Delta Poems, Larry D. Thomas takes the
reader to the Mississippi River Delta of his ancestors, who “worked
their entire lives as tenant cotton farmers,” thus connecting Thomas to
this unique region “in spirit, emotion, and by bloodline.” This, Thomas
states in his Preface, is what ultimately fostered his love for the
region, as well as the uniquely American culture and music it has
yielded.
Thomas’s connection to the land and people of the Delta becomes quite
apparent in poems that are at once startling in their originality and
vision but which also never stray from the everyday language of its
denizens, making for clear and concise images that flow as effortlessly
as
“the Mississippi sluicing / toward the Gulf.” It
is clear that these sorts of images—with their paradoxical beauty and
decay—have both inspired and haunted Thomas, but in his expert hands,
“come suddenly alive / with motes tumbling and spiraling like acrobats /
in tiny, silent circuses of light.” And it is this light, the poet’s
“staring down the dark,” that ultimately makes these poems sing “the
staves of hymns.” One would be remiss not to
also mention the beautiful photography of poet Jeffrey C. Alfier which
politely graces the pages of this book, serving as a sort of call and
response to Thomas’s poetry. In fact, some of the poems could be read as
ekphrastic replies to the images, so intricately bound they become
throughout the collection. Poems like “The Barbershop,” for example, and
the subsequent photograph by Alfier, titled “Greenwood, Mississippi,”
make the reader feel as though they are witnessing an intimate
conversation between two artists who are at the top of their game,
volleying words and images back and forth like a tennis ball, never
letting it touch the spackled green of the court as it sails over that
taut net of meaning and understanding. Some of these photographs
also call to mind the evocative Delta images by Birney Imes, sharing the
same sort of empathy for its subjects that only a poet like Alfier could
muster through that heavy camera’s dark and otherwise indifferent
lens—and Thomas responds rightly with each of his own hard and compact
lines of verse, tumescent with images that both evoke and praise the
land and people they summon, like ghosts returning home with “all the
color they’re allowed,” but ultimately offering them the grace of “their
swift / reunion with the earth.”
In a world that more than
ever seems teeming with darkness, where desperation and loss of hope can
be found at almost every crossroads, Thomas’s poetry and Alfier’s
photographs remind readers that it is all still “bathed with God’s good
grace,” and that language—and indeed the
love of language as exhibited in these
remarkable poems, and the love of place
evoked by the corresponding photography—can transcend “the unforgiving
rungs of death,” one strophe, one line, one image, and, yes, one
word at a time.
|
||||
|