Tattoos, fangs, and fright wigs

I had so much fun doing Diane Lockwards Poetry Salon that I decided to shamelessly copy her and do some interviews of my own here.

And because I have just finished reading Death-Defying Acts, I thought it would be fun to begin with Erin Keane. (I am SO far behind in my reading!)

As the founder of the InKY Reading Series and now as theater/books/art/pop culture critic for the Louisville Courier-Journal, Erin has been a force in Kentucky letters for some time.

Erin is the author of The Gravity Soundtrack (which I discuss here) and Death-Defying Acts, both published by WordFarm. She teaches in the National University MFA program. You can learn more about Erin at www.sensilla.com.

Sherry: To begin with the obvious, what impelled you to write a verse-novel about the circus? And as a corollary, why did you pick the characters you picked: the aerialist, the clown, the tattooed lady, the lion tamer, and the fortune teller?

Erin: I started by writing a persona poem in the voice of the Tattooed Lady. Then I wrote another poem that I realized had a very similar voice and explored similar themes. I had worked a lot in persona with my first collection, but I rarely lingered on the same persona more than once. Rather than beating myself up for feeling like a one-trick pony, I decided it was a sign that this character had more to say, so I continued writing more Tattooed Lady poems, thinking that it might lead to an interesting sequence. But a funny thing happened. As I imagined more and more of her story, the other voices started butting in — not as characters in her poems but in their own voices, with their own stories. The Tattooed Lady is looking for love, and I gave her a flawed suitor in the clown. Then he needed more bad choices to make, so the aerialist came in, and the fortune teller came out of her stories. I wanted more strong, fearless women in this collection, so the lion tamer was born. There were other characters whose voices and stories were not as strong and sadly, their speaking parts ended up on the cutting room floor, so to speak, but in my mind, they are still there in the background of certain shots, leading an elephant across the grounds or licking an ice cream cone in the doorway of a tent.

Sherry: I noticed that the aerialist speaks in what you might call somersaulting couplets in which the last word of the first is the first word of the next. The clown’s poems have lots of what you might call orphaned lines; the lion tamer has her say in 4 stanzas, and the fortune-teller’s voice falls out in a 14-line sonnet-like form. Could you speak to the role of form in this book?

Erin: The shape of the Tattooed Lady’s poems most closely mirrored the natural shape that many of my own poems were taking at the time, but when I wrote the first aerialist poem and saw how her voice emerged, tumbling over and under itself, I saw the necessity of having each poem’s voice established by form as well as content. As the book took shape, I realized that it would be helpful to the reader, since I switched back and forth between voices so much, to be able to begin to recognize, perhaps by the end of the first section, each voice by the shape of the poem before they even read the title. It was one of those ways in which I hoped the book would teach the reader how to read it.

Sherry. Positing an ideal reader who is going to spread the word about your work, what is it you’d like him/her to say?

Erin. I am always thrilled when a smart reader who normally avoids poetry admits to enjoying my work. I know contemporary poetry isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I think it could be if there were more easily identifiable entry points for those who aren’t already in the know. So my ideal reader would say, “If you think you don’t like poetry, you’re going to love these poems. If you already know you love poetry, well, you’re still going to love this book.”

Sherry. Both of your books, The Gravity Sound Track and Death-Defying Acts are published by WordFarm, and both have wonderful cover art. In general, they are very satisfying books. Tell us about WordFarm.

Erin. I love being a WordFarm author. My publishers, Andrew Craft and Sally Sampson Craft, are an author’s dream. They are supportive, smart, creative individuals who are working tirelessly to get our books into readers’ hands. My editor, Marci Rae Johnson, is the most astute reader I know, and a hell of a poet herself (look for her first book to come out within the year!). WordFarm is quickly building a reputation as a growing literary press well worth keeping an eye on, and I’m thrilled to be part of the family.

Sherry. What next?

Erin. I’ve been slowly working on a new collection of poems in my own voice. After writing so many persona poems, it was a long hard slog back into myself, but well worth it. I’m also working on a novel and playing around with the ten-minute play format.

Back in April 2010, Erin loaned me a poem from Death-Defying Acts for National Poetry Month. Click the link to read “The Tattooed Lady Transforms”

AND, as an extra added bonus, Erin has given me permission to share this poem from Death-Defying Acts. It first appeared in the Minnetonka Review:

The Tattooed Lady’s Fear

Some day I’ll run out of skin, the last
patch wasted on lotería icons or tiny
scraps of Edith Piaf lyric—some
fancy. I could keep an inch square
for the ultimate ink, the etching
at the end of the mind, but naked

spots burn like a bare bulb, so I
rush to cover what winks through
my dimmed bedside lamp. The little
pricks of pain comfort: I can
still wince, still feel at the end
of a shift in the tent of the living

wonders. Imagine my project
finished, the last tableau touched
up to perfect, final flourishes curling
around the Last Supper enjoyed
on my back, Latin prayers running
through seams left between life
after death and sideshow scenes.

Will I turn, then, to other surfaces,
tagging floodwalls, shaking aerosol
to free the paint, palming a marker
inside my frayed pocket? The perfect
and most flawed outlaw, my eyes
outlined in permanent mask? Or will I

roll inward, all scissors and paste,
magazine remnants collaging the panels
of my trailer? And what comes when
I have no story to tell—not even a fill

for that free spot in a two-dimensional
frame? No flaming mouth, hydrangea
eyes, your relentless wormy hair?
My fellow bottomless pit, I see you
branding me across games of chance,
darting the chests of unmarked girls.

— Erin Keane