1. Getting to spend time with my Austin Pilates people.
2. I was there in time to see bluebonnets!
3. I was also there in time for the buffalo ranch chicken strip sandwich and the Dr. Pepper shake at Whataburger.
4. Taking some time to walk in Mount Bonnell and Pease Park.
5. Easy travels coming and going.
Part 1
Some months ago, an acquaintance messaged me on Facebook asking if I’d ever published a blog or social media post about why I’d decided to leave Texas. She was considering leaving the state, and wanted to know what had compelled me to move away from a place I clearly loved so much, a place I believed I’d live for the rest of my life. I outlined some of the reasons why I decided to return to the Midwest, and made a note to actually write a full blog post about it.
Ultimately, although I love Texas deeply and will always consider it home, over the past few years, it became apparent that I was not going to be able to live the life I wanted, especially if I stayed in Austin. 1,000-square-foot 1960s bungalows in my neighborhood were selling for a million dollars, and they weren’t even in great shape. There was no way John and I would ever be able to afford the kind of home we wanted if we stayed. Nor was trying to buy a house in another city really an option. Neither of us cares for Dallas. After growing up in a remote rural area, John had no interest in moving to a small town farther west. I adore Houston, but given the way hurricane season seems to be getting worse every year, buying property anywhere on or adjacent to the Gulf Coast does not seem like a wise investment. We both think the Panhandle is depressing. That pretty much leaves San Antonio, and while we both like that city, neither of us loved it enough to resign from our jobs and totally start over.
Then there’s the issue of infrastructure. The 2021 Snowpocalypse, which left virtually the entire state without power or water, was a contributing factor in our decision to leave. Before that, I hadn’t even known that Texas was on its own power grid (though I wasn’t surprised when I found out). Since then, there do not appear to have been any serious improvements to ERCOT. Austin also faced another crippling ice storm this past January, barely two years after the Snowpocalypse. Between that, Gulf Coast hurricanes, and the desertification of the Hill Country, it doesn’t feel like Texas is a safe place to live in the era of climate change.
While Texas politics had a small impact on our decision, it was not the biggest factor. I mean, I moved to Missouri. It’s barely a step up. Saint Louis is an amazing city, but like Austin was 15 years ago, it’s a blue dot in a sea of red. But with cost of living being a factor, we were likely to end up in a red state anyway. Illinois is just 15 minutes across the river from our house, but our cost of living expenses would have a dramatic increase. Our options for housing would have been more limited. As it relates to Texas, politics was only a factor in the sense that it was clear that the state government is clearly unwilling to do anything to ensure its citizens are protected from weather disasters. Saint Louis has some of the oldest and well-maintained water and highway infrastructure. It’s not perfect, but it can handle a blizzard.
I wanted to be able to buy a house with my partner. I wanted to live in a place where I was less likely to lose access to water and power in winter. I wanted to be in a place where I was well-positioned to have access to fresh water in the event of the desertification of the western portion of the country, as well as the potential for a serious environmental apocalypse in my lifetime. Even if there had been a mutually agreeable city in which we could have afforded our dream home, I would have been forever fearing the next big weather event.
Part 2
My friend sent me the initial question sometime in August of 2022. We’re now into 2023, and I’m just now getting around to being able to put these thoughts down. As I type this, I’m actually on a plane flying from Austin to St. Louis, after a brief trip for a Pilates training. It’s the second time I’ve been back since moving; I was in Texas for the first part of my Level 3 teacher training in January. Both times, I’ve mainly been there to work, and haven’t done much socializing, or even let many people know that I’m in town. It’s honestly been painful to return, and with an intense training schedule, I don’t have much bandwidth for going out after. However, advanced teacher trainings in my Pilates program are few and far between; Texas is one of the only states where you can find them. So if I wanted to complete my advanced certification, it was inevitable that I’d be back, even if I wasn’t emotionally ready to return. However, I’m glad I got a few visits in before actually attempting to write this post. Each time I’m back in Austin, I’m caught between the competing feelings of How could I leave? and Thank goodness I left. As difficult as it is to hold both of those emotions at the same time, it’s provided useful reflection.
When I try to get from the airport into town without getting stuck on a toll road, I’m glad I left.
But I feel the sun and see the sky, and my heart aches to return.
When I try to find parking pretty much anywhere, I’m glad I left.
But I have breakfast or dinner with a friend, and something in me begs to stay forever.
When I see that places I used to love have gone out of business since the last time i was here, I’m glad Ieft.
But I go for an early morning hike before my flight home, and I wonder how I ever could have imagined being anywhere else.
When I see the downtown skyline, which now boasts some buildings that really should belong to Marvel villains, I’m glad I left.
But I smell mountain laurel and see bluebonnets and feel like this is my true home.
What it boils down to was that I had to reconcile two kinds of love: the place where I wanted to spend the rest of my days, and the person with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my days.
Now, to be clear: if I had truly insisted on staying in Texas forever, John would have stayed with me. He would never have made me choose.
But it’s also true that he wanted to leave. And the day he suggested we consider moving to Saint Louis, I readily agreed, and threw myself into the process of starting over. Because once I have made a decision, I will go all-in.
In the romantic break-ups I’ve experienced, before the inevitable end, there was always a period in which I was struggling to reconcile who the person actually had become during our time together, versus who they used to be or who they might have been when we first got together. On this second trip to Austin, I realized that’s what I’d been doing with Texas before making the decision to leave.
When I came to Austin in 2008, it was a particular kind of place: cheap, with decent job prospects, and great weather. As I explored more of the state as a whole, I fell further in love with the varied geography and culture. I loved being able to drive to Mexico.
But Austin became more expensive and libertarian. The deep flaws in local and state infrastructure came to light. I still adored the west Texas landscape. I was still enchanted by Big Thicket. I still loved the friends I’d made.
But let’s face it, there were still things I loved about ex-friends and ex-romantic partners even though those relationships were also clearly not going to work out.
It was never really a choice between the place and the person. It was about recognizing that I could love this place with every single atom of my body, and still know that I couldn’t have the life I wanted if I stayed.
There are no easy conclusions. I will return to this topic again. For now, the plane is about to descend at Lambert International Airport. John will pick me up. We will take 170 to South City. I will keep my eyes open for the Arch, the sight of which tells me I am home. And yet I will still be yearning for my other home.
I move to the St. Louis area this past June. For the final four-and-a-half months, I chronicled the restaurants, coffee shops, parks, and stores I loved, as I visited them for the last time. I posted these under the hashtag #texasfarewelltour on Instagram. One poetry friend from San Antonio commented on a restaurant post that he was using this farewell list as a way to keep track of places to eat at when he was in town. That comment inspired me to combine my final Austin food journey in one place, for others who might also consider it a must-do list.
Most of these restaurants are either local to Austin, or are regional chains. However, I have also included a few restaurants that are part of national chains, but do not have a presence anywhere in the state of Missouri. This list is organized in the order I visited each restaurant.
Whataburger has actually made its way to Kansas City . . . but that’s on the other end of the state! For my last visit, I enjoyed the seasonal Buffalo Ranch Chicken Strip Sandwich, along with a Dr. Pepper shake.
Billy’s on Burnet has the best bar burger in Austin. Their patty melt is in my top 5. The onion rings and cheese curds are also excellent. Plus, they’ve always had fantastic vegetarian options.
Oh-K-Dog currently does not exist in Missouri, but I hope it does someday! I love the Korean version of a corn dog (I love Korean street food in general, really . . . Okay, Korean food might be my favorite cuisine on the planet). The assortment of condiments makes it easy to shake up your order.
Ichiban was a monthly payday treat during my last few years in Austin. Not only is their sushi some of the best in town, but they also have an extensive Korean menu, which meant John could go with me sometimes (he has a severe shellfish allergy and avoids all sushi). I was glad to live in their delivery radius during the roughest months of the pandemic, but I always loved dining in the restaurant, especially in one of the booths.
There are a few Cooper’s Pit Barbecue locations around Texas, but my standby has always been the one in Llano. I loved having the opportunity to eat there after a hike in the Hill Country. The meat was excellent, but they were my favorite because of the side dishes. Their macaroni and cheese was the best, and their potato salad and cole slaw were also top-notch.
Monument Cafe is inextricably tied into my poetry life. I remember getting delicious lunches and dinners there during the Georgetown Poetry Festival. Although I didn’t get a chance to attend this year’s festival, I’m glad that John and I made the trip to Georgetown for one last brunch.
Thundercloud Subs is the iconic Austin sub chain. Of all the establishments that make vegetarian subs, Thundercloud is my favorite. Their chicken salad and egg salad are also excellent. And they always have a fantastic soup selection.
Biscuits and Groovy is an iconic breakfast trailer specializing in (obviously) biscuits and gravy. The bacon is always thick and perfectly cooked, the sausage is always well-seasoned, and the gravy is always peppery. Plus, everything can be made vegetarian or vegan.
Homeslice Pizza was the first place I ate when I moved to Austin. I always loved their white clam pizza, but I was pretty much the only person in my social circle who did. When John and I ordered from there, we did a custom pizza with hot cherry peppers, fresh basil, sausage, and extra cheese.
Kura Revolving Sushi Bar is another chain restaurant that doesn’t have locations in Missouri. It was the first (and so far, only) conveyor belt sushi restaurant I’ve been to, and I always had fun eating there. I was bummed that COVID kept me away from it for so long (it is always so crowded that it took me a long time to get back there), but I’m glad I got one last visit with one of my regular sushi buddies.
I remember when P. Terry’s was a single drive-thru establishment in South Austin. I used to grab a burger and fries there between my Saturday morning shift at BookWoman and my Saturday afternoon dance rehearsals. Their veggie burger is so good that I still ordered it, even after I gave up vegetarianism. The root beer milkshake was also a must-have.
Phil’s Ice House is another great burger joint. My favorite thing was to get an assortment of sliders with a side of sweet potato fries. I also think their chili cheese dog is the best in town.
I went to Amy’s Ice Creams as often as I possibly could before leaving. Amy’s is another place inextricably linked to my poetry life. The hosts of the I Scream Social Reading series (2015-2020) at Malvern Books served Amy’s flavors at every event. For my final visit, just a week before I left Austin, I met my friend Hector there, and I got a waffle cone with dark chocolate and popcorn ice cream flavors. It was quite the culinary send-off!
The Salt Lick is a Texas barbecue institution. The original Driftwood location is the place to be on a nice afternoon. I was supposed to have my birthday there in 2019, but that got rained out . . . and then COVID happened . . . but while the pandemic is still happening, we made the trip to the Salt Lick for my final Texas birthday. We got there early, staked out a spot away from the crowds, and I had a perfect afternoon hanging out with some of my dearest friends.
Nervous Charlie’s has the best bagels in Austin. They opened shortly before the pandemic, and I’m glad they were able to weather the chaos. Their bagel sandwiches are delicious, but my favorite thing was to simply get a dozen, and two containers of cream cheese (one garlic, one spicy). The pumpernickel was always my favorite flavor, but you really couldn’t go wrong with anything they served.
Good Italian food is difficult to find in Texas. Patrizi’s gets it right, so it’s no wonder that they end up with 90-minute lines on weekends. John took me here for a beautiful dinner to celebrate me getting hired at St. Charles Community College.
Whether getting pizza, salad, or sandwiches, you can’t go wrong at Little Deli. It was a perfect place for when John and I were feeling indecisive about what to do for lunch. When I worked as the admin at Master Gohring’s Tai Chi & Kung Fu, I would come in nearly every Wednesday to find a Little Deli roast beef and cheddar waiting for me. My other enduring favorite was their muffuletta.
El Mercado was one of our breakfast standbys for years, but it also makes a great lunch and dinner option. Their fish tacos were my favorite in all of Austin. They offered fairly standard Tex-Mex fare, but it was always delicious. Whenever I went to El Mercado, I knew what to expect. It was a real comfort food place for me.
I thought I didn’t like thin crust pizza. Then I had East Side Pies. I loved the range of toppings, sauces, and cheeses that you could get. I think they have some of the most inventive combinations in town. When I lived on the east side, I was in their delivery radius, and pretty much every time I came home from a long trip, I would settle in by ordering a large pie from East Side.
I have so many fond breakfast memories of the Omelettry. It’s hard to pick a single favorite omelet, but my regular favorites were the black olive, the guacamole, the chili con queso, and the broccoli sour cream. I’ve always been grateful that they survived their move from Burnet Road to Airport Boulevard, and I wish them many good years in the future.
El Caribe was the first place I tried queso flameado, which was a game-changer for me. They have great breakfast options, but this place really was a lunch and dinner stand-by for me. The pollo relleno was my favorite, but if I was craving something lighter, the flautas were my go-to.
Jim’s is a Texas chain, and I feel nostalgic for it on Sunday mornings. We’ve been going to Waffle House while staying in the St. Louis suburbs, and while I enjoy eating there, it’s just not the same. Jim’s had some of the best breakfast options; my favorite was the chili and eggs. It was also the kind of place where, if you had a hankering for a breakfast cheeseburger, you could get a breakfast cheeseburger. I usually finished my meal too full for dessert, but I always grabbed a slice of pie to take home.
Little Mexico doesn’t have a website. The restaurant is staying strong on the rapidly-gentrifying South 1st Street. Their migas plate is among my top three favorites. For lunch or dinner, my favorite thing to order was the South First Special: a loaded burrito smothered with queso. John always loved that they serve regional dishes, such as carne asada, that aren’t always the norm at other places.
Taco Deli‘s Otto taco is one of my all-time favorites. The combination of refried black beans, avocado, jack cheese, and bacon, is perfect. Plus, their salsa options have a great range of heat, as well as delicious flavors. My only regret is that I wasn’t able to find one of their avocado and garlic t-shirts in my size before I left.
Quality Seafood is a market, oyster bar, and restaurant. The crab cakes are divine. The macaroni and cheese is some of the best in Austin. If you want a decent po’boy in Central Texas, this is the place to be.
Tam’s Deli is one of the best Vietnamese places I’ve ever been to. I sadly didn’t discover it until I was near the end of my time in Austin. Our favorite bahn mi trailer had closed, and we were looking for something else close by. Tam’s saved the day! In addition to excellent bahn mi, they serve a variety of Vietnamese crepes. If you’re an egg person like me, you will love these!
Black’s Barbecue is another place I love primarily because the side dishes are so delicious. (Let’s face it; I’m all about the sides.) It’s great to get out to the original Lockhart location if you can, but I can attest that the food is equally good no matter where you are. It’s one of the big three Lockhart institutions. I was sad I didn’t have time to visit all three of them. If you have time for just one, I vote for Black’s.
Workhorse Bar makes my most favorite burger in all of Austin. Their Bastrop Burger is my one true favorite. It’s thick, cooked to perfection, and has tons of flavor. This is also the place where John and I met, and where we had our last Austin meal together before he headed out to teach study abroad this summer.
The first place I had kimchi was on the Chi’Lantro kimchi fries. I was hooked! I remember when Chi’Lantro was only a food truck, and then saw its enterprise expand. When I lived in my last Austin neighborhood, there was a location in walking distance. The kimchi fries were always my favorite, but I also loved their burritos.
At one point in my Austin life, Torchy’s Tacos was part of my routine. My then-husband and I went virtually every Sunday. After my divorce, I sort of gave up eating there unless other people wanted to go. But I’ve always loved their fried avocado taco; none of the imitations out there can compare. So of course I had to make one last stop, for old time’s sake.
The last time I saw my friend Melanie, we met at Tiny Pies. There wasn’t anywhere to sit (we thought there had been a picnic table at one point, but it had disappeared), so we sat on the shaded steps of a law office across the street, ate pie, and talked. My only regret is that I only ate one pie. I could easily have had seconds.
The Steeping Room was my absolute favorite place to eat in Austin. I used to plan my blood donations for days they were open, so I’d have an excuse to stop by for a delicious lunch or scone. Of course, I’d have to pick up some loose-leaf tea to take home. I could always count on getting a delicious meal, whether I was craving comfort food, or something light and refreshing. The jasmine lemonade also is a must-drink. Once I’m finally settled in my own kitchen, I’m going to start trying to re-create their breakfast menu items at home. (But here’s hoping they maybe just decide to do a cookbook.)
As you might have guessed from the name, Padre Island Burger Company is not in Austin. But it is my favorite burger place in the entire state of Texas. Right before moving, I snuck in a three-day trip to the gulf coast entirely for the purpose of getting to eat here one last time. If Bob Belcher ran a burger joint that was also a bar on the Texas coast, it would be this place.
Kick Butt Coffee is another Austin establishment deeply rooted in my personal history. I attended numerous fusion and blues dances there. It was one of the main venues for the Austin International Poetry Festival, and also boasts a long-running poetry and music open mic. Kick Butt is also where I first tried my hand at stand-up comedy (a phase that lasted all of a month before I realized I was not cut out for it). Plus, it’s owned by Thomas Gohring, of Master Gohring’s Tai Chi and Kung Fu, where I trained and worked. I ended up doing a bit of behind-the-scenes work for Kick Butt as well. The day I stopped in was a busy one, just three days before I left, and I was hurrying to get important errands done. I had the good fortune to drink a quick espresso with my old boss, and say goodbye. I got a mocha to go, plus a chicken wrap and cookie for later. It was tough to bid farewell to so much personal history.
Mi Madre’s makes my favorite migas plate. To my mind, there is no better one anywhere in the city. They are also the only place in town I found that makes cafe de olla, a sweet coffee brewed with cinammon and anise. There dinner offerings are fantastic as well. When John and I got sick of cooking from home during lockdown, we’d order the family fajita feast for pickup. It was a ton of food for just the two of us, but we made it last for days.
Before I left, I made a date with one of my sushi buddies to go to Uchiko. We gave ourselves permission to go all-out, getting whatever we wanted. Over the course of a three-hour dinner, we sampled a variety of fish and vegetarian delicacies, including dessert. Of course, one of the most magical meals of my life, and I didn’t take a single photo until dessert. I just didn’t think about it. But I suppose that it’s better to be fully present at such times, anyway.
It’s honestly hard for me to describe Nancy’s Sky Garden. When I am there, I feel like I am eating something straight from the page of a food magazine. I’ve never enjoyed produce so fresh, and never had a plate so colorful. Now that I have to pack a lunch for the first time in many years, I take inspiration from the delightful plate at Nancy’s to fuel my afternoon.
The first time I went to Michi Ramen was also the first time I tried takoyaki, and a lifelong love was born. A few months later, I tried mochi ice cream there for the first time. Their dipping ramen was always my favorite, but the jungle ramen came in close second. While there are a number of great ramen places in Austin, Michi Ramen was always near and dear to my heart.
Juan in a Million has the best refried beans in town. I’ve lived in north Austin for most of my life, so never got to eat here as much as I would have liked, especially with how popular it is on weekends. But on moving weekend, Linda and I ended up having to drive to Kyle (a south suburb) to get the U-Haul . . . and while that wasn’t an ideal situation, it gave us an excuse to go to Juan in a Million on the way back! Of course, I ordered the Don Juan El Taco Grande, which at $6.95, is well worth the price. It’s basically three tacos in one. You pretty much have to eat it with a fork. I was certainly well-fueled for a day of moving!
After a long day of loading my stuff into the U-Haul (according to my FitBit, I took 30,000 steps and walked 15 miles!), Linda and I wanted pizza. I decided on The Parlor as my final meal in Austin. I love their crust; it’s thick and soft, without being too doughy. They have excellent toppings, and I love that you can order a side of spicy ranch for dipping (I’m a Midwesterner, after all). Our sausage, olive, and mushroom pizza was a perfect last meal to cap off my Austin years.
Even though I wasn’t hungry when I left Austin early the next morning, I of course had to eat on my way out of Texas! I stopped at Buc-ee’s not once, but twice. I arrived at the location between Austin and Waco mid-morning, where I got kolaches and coffee. Then I stopped at the location just outside Dallas for . . . kolaches and coffee. They have a lot of great food there, but honestly, it was my last chance for those kolaches. I regret nothing. (But I am sad that both locations were out of stock of cherry sours. And also, they have Buc-ee’s locations in Tennessee and Kentucky but not Missouri??? What a world!)
I met Laura Van Prooyen at Poetry at Round Top when she was promoting Our House Was on Fire. I still remember seeing her cast in the warm stage lights of the Round Top concert hall, reading these poems about uncertainty, illness, and motherhood. Her new collection, Frances of the Wider Field, was released in March. While I was sad that we couldn’t celebrate her new release in person at Round Top this year, I did enjoy the online workshop I took with her in the online version of the festival. I’m excited to share this interview that we conducted via email over the past few months, while dealing with the Texas freeze, teaching duties, family responsibilities, and the work that goes into a book launch. That we wrote our questions and responses amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life reflects something that I admire about Laura’s poetry: our other work, our obligations, do not take us away from poetry. They are the stuff of which poetry is made.
[AW] My favorite lines in “Against Nostalgia” are “What defines me is constancy
of place, / and my urge against it.” Like you, I’m from the Midwest, and have made a life in Texas. I find that the longer I am away from Ohio, the more the tension of being a native of one place but choosing to live in another comes through with more intensity in my poems. Has being of a particular place but then making your life in another place influenced your poetry in a particular way?
[LVP] Thanks for this question. It is hard to be away from home, but when I visit my parents it is also hard. So, yes, that inherent paradox informs my poems. I grew up in a house my grandfather literally built. I never met him, but I have a picture of him with a crew digging the basement. My grandmother lived next door to us, and my great-grandmother next to her. My mom has never moved in her life. She’s still there now, at 81 years old and with dementia. Our roots are deep. I opted for sun, warmth, and new experiences, a choice I don’t regret but wrestle with all the same. I feel torn a lot, wishing to be in multiple locations at once. That tension fuels a lot of the poems in Frances of the Wider Field.
As I read through Frances of the Wider Field, I think of my own grandmothers, one who died suddenly 30 years ago, and one who died 17 years ago from Parkinson’s. I often feel that I never really got to know them, and that is its own kind of grief. I see your poems as a way to stay in conversation with people you cannot converse with anymore, at least not in the way you once did. Do you feel there is something special about poetry as a genre that allows for these conversations to happen?
I hadn’t really thought about it like this before, but yes. Poetry allows for all kinds of unexpected turns as opposed to, say, a mode that has some expectation of linearity. It seems to me that poems are not only a way to stay in conversation with people we can no longer access, but that writing into the unknown allows us to converse with mysteries. The Frances poems originated with that energy, of being open to conversations with people I never met, with places that existed before me, with lineage, with ghosts, with concepts of god. The energy was at first an impulse to write toward a very specific absence, but the poems turned into presence–Frances began permeating the landscape, the dailiness of past, present and maybe even future. I’m interested in the continuum of time and memory and how we move long through different planes of experience, sometimes all at once.
Speaking of lineage, I love the ways in which that theme shows up in this collection. One of my fascinations is with the idea of a writer’s lineage, and the ways in which creative lineage can be expansive. We have our family lineage, and we also have the poets/writers we read over and over. We have the teachers that have taught us about craft, or form, or topics that had nothing to do with writing, but nonetheless had a profound influence. Anne Sexton and Natalie Goldberg are part of my creative lineage; so are the Austin poets who have been both mentors and friends over the past 13 years. Finally, that list includes my 9th grade geography teacher (who taught kindness as much as she taught geography), my aunt, and my grandmothers. How do you trace your own creative lineage? What are the different threads or spokes that have come together to help make you the poet that you are today?
One pivotal moment in my life was my first semester at the university. I was a first generation college student. My first semester I took a seminar called “Creating Selves.” I have no idea if we had choices for these seminars, but somehow I lucked into this class taught by a professor who had us read Rainer Maria Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet, Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior, Dag Hammarskjöld’s Markings, and Helen Hanff’s 84 Charing Cross Road. She required that we keep a journal, a mix of personal insights mixed with responses to the texts. I have been keeping a journal since that class, since I was 18 years old. I still have my marked up copy of Letters to a Young Poet, and I’m actually still in touch with that professor. She came to my virtual book release just last week. I hold close poems from Louise Gluck, Larry Levis, Brigit Pegeen Kelly, Vievee Francis, John Donne, Adelia Prado and Olena Kalytiak Davis among many others, too. I’m also a fan of Lynda Barry. I wanted to be a visual artist before I ever thought about being a writer. I suppose there’s still time.
I love the way you depict work in these poems, specifically, the work Frances performs. “Avenue F” is the most striking example: the work of wringing and hanging laundry, of polishing the baby’s shoes. In “Lilacs Full of Bees,” Frances has cleaned gutters, polished the car, and soaked her feet after a long day. I’d love to hear more about your approach to depicting those daily tasks. Did you have a specific approach to incorporating them? I think some poets are hesitant to bring dailiness into their poems because they worry it comes across as boring. How did you incorporate Frances’ daily, domestic work in a way that made the poems come alive?
It’s wonderful to hear that for you the poems came alive. Dailiness is life. I’m interested in specificity, and if I had a particular approach, I suppose it was to write toward the specifics. I also had to make choices. I had ideas and things popping up, like polishing the car and cleaning the white walled tires with a toothbrush. Not every daily task made the final cut. When I really get into revision, I read my work aloud. What stays is what sounds right. As in, sonically. I ask myself (consciously or intuitively) how the sounds of words play off each other, how can the poem create a sonic landscape that works in relation to the details.
Finally, is there anything you never get asked about your work that you’ve always wanted to talk about?
I love your final question, but I cannot think of anything in particular that I’ve never been asked. I love talking about the creative process and hearing from other makers what they do, what they’re reading, what art they’ve seen or music they’d listened to. I like to talk to people who are curious, because staying curious feels right to me. Learning new things. Being open. That’s part of the work.
Thanks to Laura for participating in this interview. I hope you enjoyed learning more about this engaging collection. You can buy Frances of the Wider Field from Laura’s website (the most direct way to help a poet get paid!), Lily Poetry Review Books, Bookshop.org, major book retailers, or your local independent bookstore.
One of my (many) passion projects is serving on the board of Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review. It’s been an honor to help keep an independent print journal going during increasingly challenging times.
Borderlands is currently going through a leadership transition. This fall, the board realized that we needed to split our volunteer Administrative Director position into three roles. The work was just too much for one person, especially with their work considered an in-kind donation to the organization. To that end, we split the role into three: Administrative Director, Development Director, and Production Director.
We are looking for people interested in serving Borderlands in a volunteer capacity to help us continue to thrive. We are a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization, and we have been going strong since 1992 largely with the help of committed community members.
You can find descriptions of all three positions here. Submissions are open until February 15th, 2021. To apply, please send a resume to allyson@allysonwhipple.com (you can address your email to the Board as a whole.)
Please also feel free to pass this information on to anyone you think would be interested! Even if these roles aren’t right for you, spreading the word is a huge help. One of the best things you can do is help the right people for the job find us!
(And of course, if you’re looking for other ways to help, you can always make a tax-deductible donation through our website. It’s never too soon to work on that 2021 tax deduction.)
