Doug Holder

RS: 

Your new "Essential" collection features not just free-style poetry, but that sort of stream of consciousness structure featured in the first book Big Table did with you, Portrait of an Artist as a Young Poseur. Can you tell us a little about the difference in writing the two forms?

DH:

Portrait of an Artist was written in a sort of fever dream: several years ago we had this huge snow event in Boston and I was stuck in the house. I was reading my journals that span over 40 years, and I just went into a stream of consciousness mode and had sort of writing prompts from snippets from the journal. The Essential Doug Holder is a collection that spans 30 years of my work, but oddly enough, I was encouraged by you to compile the poems in a time of isolation too. Most of the poems here were more deliberate; there wasn't that automatic writing going on for the most part. 

RS:

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a poet? Your biggest challenge?

DH:

I think I'm good with the short form. My wife and others sometimes tell me, "I want more," when they read my poems. I'd like to expand my poems in some cases, but then, would that be the essential Doug Holder? 

RS:

Have you ever simply abandoned a poem because you felt you just couldn't get it right?

DH: 

Yes. Usually when I am committed to the idea of a poem, I try my best to bring it to life, but sometimes it's just dead on arrival. But usually when something strikes me hard it seems to work out. 

RS:

Growing up, what did you want to be, how did you envision your career, did you always hope to be a poet?

DH: 

I had this idea that I would be this urban character in Greenwich Village, working as a social worker and writing on the side. In essence, I became that: I worked at McLean Hospital in Belmont, MA for 36 years as a mental health counselor, and I ran poetry groups for patients (as well as other duties.) For over 10 years, I have been teaching writing at Endicott College and Bunker Hill Community College, which is great, and something I never envisioned doing when I was very young.

RS:

Most of your writing is based on things you've experienced, observed, or read about. Some themes, like your father's death, show up again and again. Is it hard to write about that, or is it cathartic?

DH:

It's like communing with your father and your past. Father and son relationships are very intricate: love/hate and all that sort of stuff. By writing about my father, I gained an understanding of him, me, and the relationship itself. I know this is corny, but at times I felt his presence when I was writing.

RS:

This collection really allows us to watch you grow up. How has your poetry evolved since you began writing, and did anynew insights hit you as you chose which poems to include?

DH:

I think at first, I often wrote for shock value. I tried to focus on bizarre subjects, like a woman who sat on her toilet for a couple of years. But now I think my work is more probing; I feel there is more steak than sizzle.

RS:

Favorite tip for writing poetry?

DH:

Write every day. Revise. Revise. Revise. Engage the senses. Use original language. 

At the Reading: Young Poet

She illuminated the dark bar 

like the distant

pristine light from the maw of a cave.

Her expression

practiced, dramatic

but every so often

betraying herself

with a nervous tic

a flutter of her eyes

an awkward positioning of her legs.

She talked of making love

as if a new discovery

of how he fills her crevices

she is he

or he is she

couplings in small rooms

of old Cambridge victorians

cigarette smoke

lipstick traces

romantic places

half-empty glasses

the lingering scent

remembered words...

phrases.

Looking at the audience

her body willowy

graceful

her face impervious to the revealing glare of the spotlight

her hair dropping down her shoulders

looking like it was glazed with honey.

From the corner

an old woman

lifted her head

from the rim of her shot glass

and cackled

breaking the spell:

"What's the big deal, kid, any two dogs could do that."