That Distinct Atmosphere
Roger Aplon
March 22, 2021
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Dear Roger,
Could you tell us more about your writing style? How has it evolved over time? Over the years, in my explorations of various writing techniques, I’ve probably incorporated all of the obvious styles: narrative, expository, persuasive and descriptive. That said, for some time I’ve been utilizing an amalgam of them all with the intent of creating a ‘distinct atmosphere’ for each poem I write. |
Photo: courtesy of the artist |
For example, I may begin a poem with an image or line of narrative, follow it by a quote from a newspaper, or with another image, a remark heard on a bus, a public pronouncement and/or another image or conversational exchange. I’ve been doing this for some time especially with my Improvisations – most of them in response to contemporary music where the music leads me to many complex, jointed and/or disjointed thoughts that in turn seem to be curiously coherent expressions of intimate aspects of the music. Where my earlier poems were almost exclusively narrative, later work became more imagistic, and present poems more impressionistic.
Ideally, I like to merge techniques and hope the resulting poems have achieved that distinct atmosphere I desire.
You have published many books ranging from poetry to short fiction to essays. How do you pick your topics of interest to extend into a full-length publication?
Most of my books are collections of poetry most often determined by time. That is, I don’t intentionally write ‘themed’ books but rather arrange my collections around the calendar: what has touched me, intrigued me, stimulated me – personally, politically and/or socially during this/that time. A small exception might be my first collection: Stiletto, which seems to have been about sex – not conceived or intended as such but, as a young man in my late twenties through my thirties, sex was certainly a paramount focus and no doubt influenced that collection.
Subsequent collections have focused on more general associations: political and cultural responsibilities, relationships that grow & those that do not. Overall, as a reader once observed, I seem to be more and more focused on the textures, colors and personalities of the quotidian – what and how my/our various worlds worked or didn’t. In reflection, I do think the-world-as-I-find-it has always been the unifying factor of most of my work. As to essays and short fiction, they came as the opportunities arose. A long poem became, by insistence, a short-story, essays were usually by request and/or in response to an excited impulse, and/but still driven by my fascination with, yes, the quotidian.
What have you been doing differently during this terribly long period of isolation because of the global pandemic?
Quite long – and/but – not so unusual for one who is used to isolation in the pursuit of his work. With this closeted-time and very few distractions at hand, I took the opportunity to explore a writing process unusual for me. Namely, a focused project – one with a beginning, middle and end. I chose to explore writing, ‘improvised impressions’ while listening to all of Beethoven’s thirty-two piano sonatas.
Where, in the past, I have written spontaneously improvised responses to music: one composition at a time and a mix of composers. This time, having available a complete set of these sonatas – played wonderfully by Richard Goode, I thought to test where and how this unlikely opportunity might take me. I began with number one and went movement by movement, sonata by sonata through all thirty-two. It took about three months, during which time I also began poking around to learn a little about Beethoven’s personal and ‘spiritual’ life. Some facts of which added unexpected dimension to my thoughts and the writing. After completion of my third draft, I began my editing process which lasted about two months. Overall, it was an exciting project – especially since I began without the slightest idea where it might go and/or where it eventually went... The Complete work: Improvisations, Contemplations & Dialogues While Listening to Beethoven’s 32 Piano Sonatas: A Diary is now traveling on-lookout for a publisher.
How have you adjusted your schedule to stay actively involved and connected with familiar and new literary circles?
Over the years I’ve lost touch with the ‘literary circles’ of my youth. In fact, it’s been quite a number of years since I’ve had those connections or opportunities. That said, over time, I have been asked by several literary organizations to edit anthologies and/or ’blurb’ their author’s books.
In essence, aside from hanging out with a few close friends who are active artists of one stripe or another and attending poetry readings, gallery and museum exhibitions or jazz and classical concerts, I’ve kept pretty much to myself.
Ideally, I like to merge techniques and hope the resulting poems have achieved that distinct atmosphere I desire.
You have published many books ranging from poetry to short fiction to essays. How do you pick your topics of interest to extend into a full-length publication?
Most of my books are collections of poetry most often determined by time. That is, I don’t intentionally write ‘themed’ books but rather arrange my collections around the calendar: what has touched me, intrigued me, stimulated me – personally, politically and/or socially during this/that time. A small exception might be my first collection: Stiletto, which seems to have been about sex – not conceived or intended as such but, as a young man in my late twenties through my thirties, sex was certainly a paramount focus and no doubt influenced that collection.
Subsequent collections have focused on more general associations: political and cultural responsibilities, relationships that grow & those that do not. Overall, as a reader once observed, I seem to be more and more focused on the textures, colors and personalities of the quotidian – what and how my/our various worlds worked or didn’t. In reflection, I do think the-world-as-I-find-it has always been the unifying factor of most of my work. As to essays and short fiction, they came as the opportunities arose. A long poem became, by insistence, a short-story, essays were usually by request and/or in response to an excited impulse, and/but still driven by my fascination with, yes, the quotidian.
What have you been doing differently during this terribly long period of isolation because of the global pandemic?
Quite long – and/but – not so unusual for one who is used to isolation in the pursuit of his work. With this closeted-time and very few distractions at hand, I took the opportunity to explore a writing process unusual for me. Namely, a focused project – one with a beginning, middle and end. I chose to explore writing, ‘improvised impressions’ while listening to all of Beethoven’s thirty-two piano sonatas.
Where, in the past, I have written spontaneously improvised responses to music: one composition at a time and a mix of composers. This time, having available a complete set of these sonatas – played wonderfully by Richard Goode, I thought to test where and how this unlikely opportunity might take me. I began with number one and went movement by movement, sonata by sonata through all thirty-two. It took about three months, during which time I also began poking around to learn a little about Beethoven’s personal and ‘spiritual’ life. Some facts of which added unexpected dimension to my thoughts and the writing. After completion of my third draft, I began my editing process which lasted about two months. Overall, it was an exciting project – especially since I began without the slightest idea where it might go and/or where it eventually went... The Complete work: Improvisations, Contemplations & Dialogues While Listening to Beethoven’s 32 Piano Sonatas: A Diary is now traveling on-lookout for a publisher.
How have you adjusted your schedule to stay actively involved and connected with familiar and new literary circles?
Over the years I’ve lost touch with the ‘literary circles’ of my youth. In fact, it’s been quite a number of years since I’ve had those connections or opportunities. That said, over time, I have been asked by several literary organizations to edit anthologies and/or ’blurb’ their author’s books.
In essence, aside from hanging out with a few close friends who are active artists of one stripe or another and attending poetry readings, gallery and museum exhibitions or jazz and classical concerts, I’ve kept pretty much to myself.
Do you consider the impact of your work on readers or do you just follow your muse?
I relish the idea and the hope that readers will find my work engaging, stimulating, intriguing and absorbing . . . But, I try not to think of them while I work. Since my earliest attempts at finding my writer’s ‘voice,’ I’ve remained committed to the principle that the work comes first and, if it’s worthy, an audience will acknowledge it and hopefully respond accordingly.
As a side note to that: what we especially lack in this country is a large and enthusiastic audience for contemporary poetry – that is, an audience that pursues new work and buys books in support – that – and reviewers who seek it out – assuming they can even find outlets for their reviews.
Can you talk to us about your newest book titled The Omnipotent Sorcerer?
Actually, there are two new books. The Omnipotent Sorcerer from Unsolicited Press in Portland, Oregon and After Goya – Selected & New Poems from Cyberwit.net – India. After the publication of Mustering What’s Left – Selected & New Poems by Unsolicited Press in 2018, I thought I might experience a dearth of new work. Surprised and excited, I experienced a rush of creative energy and, although it had only been a year or so since that publication, I asked the editors at UP if they were interested in considering another collection. They responded – Yes.
The Omnipotent Sorcerer includes work that addresses a range of topics: The complexity of our romantic relationships – our recent, horrifically tortured political climate, with many poems that directly confront the consequences of the irresponsible, bigoted and racist acts of their paramount instigator – the then president Trump and his cronies in our congress – Poems that ‘interrogate’ the upheavals of our wars and their aftermath and – A selection of impressionistic poems that explore other diverse pathways in our human adventure, i.e., Our quotidian.
After Goya, is a smaller collection, divided into five sections: Lighter: “Encounters,” Darker: “To Witness.” Followed by: “6 Improvisations” and “An Homage to the Experimental Music of Anthony Tan.” The collection concludes with a series of twenty-four small poems written in direct response to Francisco Goya’s undaunting, ghastly and horrific but profoundly moving drawings: “The Disasters of War.”
I’m quite proud of both publications. Coming as they did within a week of each other, they represent the best work of my last two years and I’m extremely pleased with their range of feeling, complexity of styles, tone, color, vitality and strength.
What are your own favorite books? Why?
I guess Stiletto has a place – first books always seem the hardest won: there’s no record for a publisher to peruse, no evidence of an audience except for a few poems that may have made it to print in magazines. In the case of Stiletto, I also encountered some controversy with my monologues which some critics denied were even poetry (20 years later hip-hop was born to much applause – pursuing a similar focus).
The second must be Barcelona Diary. First, for its length and breadth – 178 poems – two years of intimately and extensively documenting (poetically) time and the city – and second, for translator and publisher, Victor Batallé’s enthusiastic response that gave it its bilingual (English and Catalan) presence and personality. Oddly enough, until Victor insisted, I hadn’t considered it for publication – the writing being a daily exercise I applied while working on something other. It’s pleasing to remember, when it was released in Barcelona in 2000, it sold out in a week. That excitement, however, was soon dispelled when, after fifty copies were sent for review in the United States, not one review appeared.
The third would be Mustering What’s left from Unsolicited Press. I assume every writer of poetry would like a “New & Selected Poems” before they cease publishing. With this book, I achieved that goal. The content includes small excerpts from all my preceding books, including chapbooks, plus a tight selection of very recent poems. Where a book of that nature might suggest a conclusion, in my case it acted as a stimulant, hence, the new work being published.
Do you see yourself as a poet or as a writer with a poetic soul?
I’m a writer who likes to write poetry but – poetry of my liking: I’ve always been intrigued by prose that reads like poetry: Steinbeck, Agee & Joyce immediately come to mind. From that came my interest in the prose poem and I’ve written many. Also, this independence of mind has led me to consider other experimental forms for my poems. This exploration, merging as it did with my intense interest in Jazz, the challenging innovative ideas from critic and composer John Cage and the book Free Play – Improvisation in Life and Art by Stephen Nachmanovitch gave rise to my interest and now, committed focus on Improvisation as a new and viable technique.
I now use improvisations (impressionistic writing) to draw readers and listeners into situations and experiences that seem too abstract to be captured by narrative poetry.
It’s also a lot of fun and very freeing in its execution and it seems to help garner the response all writers seek to achieve. For example, several years ago, when I was a guest-fellow at the Wurlitzer Foundation in Taos, New Mexico, I wrote my first randomly improvised poem that I called “While Listening To Mingus In The Rain.” It was subsequently published in a jazz-oriented issue of Malpais Magazine and within a week of that publication I received an email from a reader claiming that poem made him feel the way Charley Mingus’s music made him feel. I couldn’t have been more pleased. Since then, I’ve accelerated this pursuit and even, as noted, spent the first three months of the pandemic-lockdown writing improvisations for my Beethoven Project.
Can you share with us a favorite poetry or literary event that you have enjoyed recently?
With the pandemic keeping us all pretty close to home, the best I’ve been able to do are zoom events of which the C A P S (Calling All Poets) First-Friday-of-Every-Month-Series – (open to all poets and/or poetry lovers) - is close to my heart. I’ve been publishing many of their writers in my magazine “Waymark – Voices of the Valley” which I began eight years ago in Beacon, New York, my home in the Hudson Valley. Two years ago, I was honored to be asked to edit their 20th year anthology of poetry.
Finally, it sounds like you have a special connection with the beautiful city of Barcelona. Isn’t it so?
Yes. I first visited Barcelona when I was working in Madrid many, many years ago. My first impression of that city, after arriving from landlocked-Madrid, was the always tantalizing ‘sweet scent of the sea,’ after which, I was taken to see the amazing facade of Gaudi’s church – all that existed at that time – and was forever smitten. I briefly returned to Barcelona in 1975 – the year of Franco’s death – to a transformed country. The colors of life-on-the-street had gone from black to orange - yellow - purple - red and with that an irrepressible eruption of excitement and enthusiasm for city-life among its residents – a passion that continues to flourish to this day!
Twenty-plus years passed before I was again able to return to Spain, this time for an extended period. I again chose Barcelona, its lingering memory / still so potent. It was then I began writing the poems that make up Barcelona Diary: entries that evolved in many obscure, inventive and eventful ways from my encounters with the city and its magnetic personality. I began to feel, as many of us sometimes do, ‘I’ve possibly lived here before’. That’s a thought I continue to savor. Barcelona is a city in which one can lose oneself. In a good way. And, although the Catalan people have a reputation for being a bit aloof, I was never bothered by those claims and, in fact, never encountered the evidence. I loved the inexpensive access to a multitude of concerts and art museums as is made available in most art-loving, socialist leaning cultures.
And, In the course of my time, I devoured all the city had to offer – including its superb variety of cuisine, wine and (an occasional) Cuban cigar. Obviously, I fully relished those first three years and the subsequent five that closely followed. In essence, I’ve lived in many cities: Chicago, San Francisco, New York, Los Angeles, San Diego and yet none – none have captured me the way Barcelona has.