Brady Peterson

RS:

Wow, you and I have known each other for a long, long time, and we’ve seen each other through some major life changes. I never told you this, but once I tried to write a poem for you titled, "One Daughter Died and One Daughter Had a Baby," but for the life of me, I couldn't do it. But I was just so struck with that set of circumstances. How did writing poetry help you with your grief?

BP:

Actually, when Melinda died, my daughters Lou and Emily both had babies. One was born a month before Melinda died. The second was born two weeks after, in the same hospital. It seems to be a family theme: my father's death was sandwiched between two granddaughters being born. My wife and I drove from my father's funeral to the hospital. I learned something in the process, I think: we die to make room.

I have more than one friend who believes we just come back into another life. I have other friends who believe in the more traditional heaven and hell narrative. I'm only a poet. I miss my daughter terribly, but it's been over six years. I still ride my bike, do kettleball workouts, garden, and dance to the music of Clifton Chenier. I wrote in one of my poems how the ordinary clings even in the midst of disaster.

How did poetry help me deal with my grief? I don't know that it did. Marie Howe wrote a whole book, What the Living Do, about her brother dying and her dealing with it. Maybe it helped her in her grief. I think it more just bore witness. 

Grief has its own agenda. Poets bear witness.

RS: 

You seem to be a political person. Do you think it's possible to implement change with poetry? I think I'm to jaded to believe it, but I'd love to know if you do.

BP:

Am I a political person? Yes and no. I don't and won't run for office, something about truth telling being incompatible with getting elected. Pavel Tsatsouline describes vegetables as a necessary evil. It seems that vegetables come with these little toxins that help our immune systems get stronger. Thus, a necessary evil. Analogies are fraught with problems, but in a similar way, I would suggest politicians are a necessary evil. Pick the ones who will help make you stronger. Avoid the ones who will kill you.

Whether poets can implement change or not is up for grabs. Historically, poets are among the first to be dragged out of their houses and shot when the tyrant assumes power. Poets, the good ones, are always rattling cages. Still, poets should be relatively safe in America, because Americans don't read poetry. Our current president doesn't seem to read anything at all. I have a good friend who suggests that anyone who hasn't read a book of poetry shouldn't be allowed to vote. He also believes the same for anyone who has submitted a poem to The New Yorker. That is not likely to happen. there is the concerted effort, though, by some to keep anyone not white from voting. Alas, what does the poet do. He or she bears witness.

Then there's crazy Ezra Pound who reminds us even a poet can be a fascist.

RS:

How have you watched yourself grow as a poet?

BP:

I spend more time watching myself in the mirror doing kettleball swings. I'm 73, and I'm tuned into this struggle we have with growing old and dying maybe more than I should be. That we will grow old and die is a given. How we do it is another matter altogether. I have this desire to go out as a badass. Of course, badass may mean I can squat down and pick up my grandson. As for the poet, he is really a visitor who taps me on the shoulder when I need to see something. The poet is not me, he is someone else. What changes, if anything, is my ability and willingness to listen to the guy.

RS:

Favorite tip for writing poetry? 

BP:

Read everything. See everything. Hear everything. Howl at the moon when necessary, but try to avoid using the moon in your poetry as it has become cliche. Love with all your heart, knowing full well it will be broken.