Stephen Morse passed away January 16th, 2010 Rest in peace dear Stephen you will be missed.
The Plebian Rag is proud to present an exclusive interview with Stephen Morse one of the last remaining surviving beat poets, the interview was conducted by Si Philbrook our Outreach Literary Consultant. Follows the interview in its entirety. We would like to thank Stephen Morse for his time and for his contribution to the poetry scene.
The Plebian Rag: I am as you may know a big fan of your work, but I would like to start by asking how you are? In all our communications so far I respect more than anything your honesty, and you have shown that same honesty in dealing with your illness. There is no one I know in the poetry community who does not send you positive thoughts in your battle against cancer. I hope you accept all our good wishes. So how are you?
Stephen Morse: This is a question that is very difficult and complicated to answer. I am feeling pretty good. I can still drive, feed our chickens and one rabbit, collect the eggs, do garden work. Pretty good vegetable garden this year, mow the lawn, weed the flower gardens, write poetry, contribute some to MySpace blogs and FaceBook lectures, editing a new book of Poems, “Jesus is the Refrigerator” and dealing with some inquiries for work and interviews, and normal household chores, but the truth is that I have terminal cancer, pretty much scattered throughout my body, lungs, back, lymph glands, blood. It is not curable, but we have been slowing it down, and I have good pain management and really have been able to maintain a fairly active life style. Mentally, my short term memory is unreliable as a result of chemotherapy. I never know what I am going to remember. I have recently lost my hair which is ok. My prognosis is, eventually, death. No one will make any guesses, but I’m to consider that every 2 weeks will be my last. I expect it will happen fast when it does. I have been pleased that it hasn’t affected my writing abilities and have been overall pleased with the work I’m doing.
That of course is the tip of the iceberg and many financial problems have been created by the actions of the college where I was an associate professor for nearly 20 years. They chose to terminate me and my benefits after a few months, just before my second surgery because they felt that my cancer made me an expense rather an asset. I was essentially terminated because I am taking too long to die.
Yes, it was illegal for them to do so, and yes there is an ongoing investigation by the Minnesota Dept of Human rights. But the school’s lawyer has refused to negotiate in good faith and the process drags on. And I, of course refuse to give up or die. Judy, the love of my life and wife since 1976 has handled a herculean amount of detail, documentation and acted as a spokesperson during those times when my memory failed me. Between the two of us we have always been a formidable team and gotten things done. And that hasn’t changed, but what has changed is our time available for publishing and responding to the works of others. We have no money, or resources beyond surviving. That’s the short answer to the question, “How are you?”
The Plebian Rag: I have read as much of your work as I can easily get hold of. I have bought some, which I recommend everyone does. I have also listened to the excellent interview you did with Jane Crown. I think that the title “Last living beat poet” fits appropriately as a recognition for some of your work, but for me you are much more than that; how would you describe yourself in terms of poetry? If you had to be placed in some context, where would you like that to be?
Stephen Morse: I am a writer, not a critic, and believe me those are two different worlds. So, oddly enough, I am probably not the best source for the answer to this question which is more properly a question for critics… I think perhaps I could be considered a tonal imagist — most of the time, except when I’m not, then I’m not.
A poem doesn’t have to say anything that could be paraphrased in a rational essay. It should have an effect in the mind of the reader. That’s why I get involved in sounds; the idea that words could do more than mean something, that their actual sounds could create a feeling within someone, sadness, joy, melancholy (poe’s favorite) that would be difficult to do in any other way. Music does this, as do the visual arts. This is what Artists do. They share/express their senseme. Don’t bother looking it up. It’s a word coined by Gene Fowler. It embodies the total experience of a moment in time. I guess you could say a senseme is a focal event, one that for reasons known only to us, seems worthy of sharing.
I like to think that there are connections in time to all that happened at that moment. A senseme is a frozen moment And that makes me think it is possible to create a universal thought or feeling by using the details and the concrete images of that moment, and yes even the sounds in our individual heads which it just occurred to me are “feelings.” that have not been articulated much like the feelings felt by an infant that burst forth as cries which we learn as caretakers to interpret as hunger, fear, or…calls for attention. The baby is teaching us how to listen and laying the groundwork for their own learning of sounds that become the common language in the house.
After all, words are meant to share something. Ideas, yes. Emotions, yes. Feelings for which there are no words, yes. I love Robert Frost’s example of a conversation almost overheard behind a closed door. I say almost because the tone (anger, frustration, whatever makes it through the door remain, but the actual words and their context have been blocked.)
I first started writing poetry in college. It was at the University of Oregon in Eugene. I took a 3 quarter class in literature, a survey class, starting with Beowulf and running up through TS Eliot. We looked at forms and my nature is to try things out. It wasn’t part of the class, but I experimented with forms as they were introduced because you can’t know if you understand something until you use it.. Nothing out of that time period survived. I was interested in process, not product. I was particularly interested in the possibility of using words to create a feeling.
It occurred to me that maybe a collection of sounds could function as a poem. No need for words, but I was never satisfied with the results I achieved. I consider that experiment to be unfinished. One of the requirements for a poem is to entertain at some level. I get
bored if both parts of my brain are not engaged. The Four Horseman had some success with their wordless experiments but their actual performances were what made it work. You had to see them.
That has always been my way of working. Get a new tool and see what can be done with it. I have a lot of tools and no particular favorite. I am a writer who makes a lot of poems. I think because they’re short. I can write something I have time to read.. And more and more I write for myself and a few readers that don’t let the words frighten them.
I particularly don’t write for literature teachers. They try too hard to tame the work by interpreting it so that it fits in with what they have learned to expect from a poem. For Example, a poem is expected to look a certain way. This is particularly true with the free verse kind of poem — the one that doesn’t rime or walk in a certain meter. — If it doesn’t sound like a poem, It should at least look like a poem with chopped up lines…to give it the appearance of a dance, a rhythm, you know, be a poem (or so we are told).
So where do I fit when compared to other poets?
I think perhaps it would be helpful to walk you through a process for writing a poem, one that includes many of my ideas about what a poem should be, sound, and look like.
Here’s an actual example of how I might make a poem from Bukowski’s statement that poets today can’t even write a simple sentence like ‘the dog walked down the street.’
Don’t over think it, just read. First I created the core of the poem.
a dog walked down the street
on his way to a hot dog stand
where the owner was bored
and liked to feed him.
an old drunk
running a hot dog stand
is a dog’s best friend.
As great as that poem is not, it would be even harder to read as a poem if it hadn’t been cut into short lines and had a stanza.
a dog walked down the street on his way to a hot dog stand where the owner was bored, and liked to feed him. An old drunk running a hot dog stand is a dog’s best friend.
Of course, it might be called a prose poem and could be further “poeticized” by cutting it up and reshuffling it. I used a Burroughs cut up machine to do that for me, removing the original farther from the world of prose that makes sense. The result:
way to walked street on a owner down feed bored and hot to dog’s down is the feed stand where feed to him. an him. an dog the him. an a hot feed the friend. was street on
But now it looks wrong, so let’s do a syllable chop for line breaks; 5 syllable lines and two quatrains.
Way to to walked street
on a owner down
feed bored and hot to
dog’s down is the feed
Where to feed to him
an him. And dog the
him. An a hot feed
the friend. Was street on.
It looks more like a poem, but now I really miss the drunken hotdog vendor and the little anthropomorphic assumption that a dog might think like us. So I go back to the original. I need a hook, some kind of twist. I need to find the senseme to hold it all together. Notice that it comes with an accumulation of more concrete detail. A sense of story unveils a senseme of sorts. Read on.
a dog walked down the street
on his way to a hot dog stand
where the man liked to feed him.
a dog is the drunken
hot dog vendor’s
best friend
the drunk
running a hot dog stand
is the dog’s best friend.
certainly not a cat
a cat would just as soon
eat the vendor
A teenager might
mug him because
they always need money
The drunk couldn’t stop them
and they didn’t like
him or his
hot dogs
the cops might arrest him
selling meat without a license
on the street
they don’t like
his cart.
but the dog likes the hot dogs
and the old drunk
who likes to feed him
likes the dog
he’s a good
friend with
very good food
the dog thinks
the dog sees much
invisible
hunger
as he walks
down the street
in plain sight
It’s beginning to resemble a poem. It has a senseme. I’ve walked the dog down the street to a poem. So back to the question: “how would you describe yourself in terms of poetry? If you had to be placed in some context, where would you like that to be?”
That is me in the act of writing. So how would I be labeled?
I would describe myself as a writer who makes things with words. I know of no critical context that would be a comfortable fit for me. I don’t always know what I am doing until I’m done, and then I’m liable to redo it.
The process I have just walked through, “Invisible hunger in plain sight” is simply one method I use for making a poem. The opening lines came first this time. Sometimes the senseme (the moment) comes first, and I have find the details, the images, the words, or the story in the senseme. What is it that I want to share.
Sometimes I write in a fixed form just to get at the idea. I will use whatever tool is at hand… I write free verse, sonnets – I have a great sonnet exercise, but it requires a group — villanelles, haiku, senryu and several of my own inventions like the 20 word narrative poem, or most often I’ll just write the words that come to me because they sound right, because I like them.
The Small Presses have been my publishing home. I think perhaps I’m best understood in the context of Coyote poet/editor. Like coyotes, I scavenge, sing, and make the academics very nervous because I won’t stand still. I have nipped more than one of them along the way. To wherever I am in the stacks.
The Plebian Rag: I’d like now to drag you back to when you first started writing poetry. What sparked that? Who and what were your earliest influences, and what made you want to write poetry?
Stephen Morse: Remembering is hard work. I’ve told various stories about my beginning interest in poetry. One is that I always wanted to. My dad was a visual artist. I would spend hours watching him draw and paint. As a painter, he was drawn to things that told romantic stories. His craftsmanship sucked, and his themes were corny, but I liked watching the process.. My sisters were as usual, invisible. No memory of their existence in the house. This has led me to say that there were already too many visual artists in the family. My mother painted grapes and vines on bisque ware. And my first wife went to Oakland College of Arts and Crafts and painted a number of life sized elephants. That added to the story of too many visual artists. Michael McClure taught basic composition at CCAC and I ghost wrote one of my wife’s first essays for here.
As an essay it sucked because I was trying to be a poet for McClure. I knew who he was.
He hated it. I have no idea what the assigned theme was, but it came out like this:
A Short Play Frog and Monkey Poem War Dance | Stephen Morse
(traditional)
(in honor of Michael Mclure, the 60’s, the Oakland
College of Arts and Crafts, and the next great War. )
[scene-a 9x12 cement cubicle furnished with only one steel table which
is bolted securely to the floor and directly in the middle of the room.
On the table, wrapped in yellow velvet, is a generic green male frog
which may or may not be wearing a beret and smoking a corn-cob pipe The
scene opens as the frog speaks. The tone of his voice indicates that he
feels he is not alone ]
Frog: He that drives risks
his life on the highway
in the manner of a fool
with a mission. If you
must be a fool, try to avoid
becoming involved with a
mission. Fools and their
missions soon create a danger
that inspires other fools to
action.
I saw three mice
driven to their death by just
the thought of a mission and
mice as you all know are
the wisest of fools.
[ At this point there is a dusty pause of insignificant dimensions that
is interrupted by the appearance through a hole in the ceiling of a
white monkey wearing a sweater with the pattern of a dollar bill woven
into it. the monkey drops onto the floor in front of the frog and
begins to chant and play with its genitals. ]
Monkey: Trip out — run fast
be yourself — think artistic — trip
out — run fast — be yourself —
think — artistic — trip out — run
fast — be yourself.
Frog: (screams) Green is
a sacred color. Don’t jerk
your dinky dot in time to the holy
chant!
Monkey: (obliviously) Trip out — run fast
be yourself — think artistic
trip out.
Frog: (sullenly) A fool has been
born that should be
dead because that fool
believes in frogs. I know
a mission when I see one.
(shouting) Missions are deadly!
[ Meanwhile the monkey self-stims in to ever higher waves of feeling and
the chant changes, increasing in tempo and volume ]
Monkey: (drooling and loudly now ) Trip out — Love —
I Love you — Run
Fast — Trip out —love
( stops abruptly and ogles Frog )
Frog: Be careful fool or
you will smear me
with your mission
[ whiteness explodes, soaks, obliterates, and covers the frog; and the
monkey falls to the floor softly mumbling ]
Monkey: You don’t know
where it’s at do you?
Even something is better
than nothing. . .
Oh blessed be,
I die
( gasp, choke, sputter,cough ‘and stop the war again, please,’ an
unidentified woman’s voice wails in sorrowful synch with a guitar and a
fiddle somewhere in the world. )
[Closing scene: The frog is dead. The monkey continues to mumble
incoherently as two young monkeys, who may or may not be wearing berets,
wander on to the set, doodling their dinky dots wildly; and the curtain
closes in a flurry of patriotic marching tunes and fireworks.
That was the last time I wrote a paper for her, or McClure.
I was busy enough at Cal State University, Hayward, working on my BA. As a Junior I studied under George Cuomo, Thom Gunn, and Charles Simic to name a few of the better known writers of the time. I fell into poetry because those were the classes offered that fulfilled my graduation requirements. Poetry just happened to come first with George Cuomo. He was a high energy Italian American with good technical skills. My first assignment for him was much more successful. And it came easy; that ensured I would concentrate on poetry.
This was the 60’s and my initial idea of becoming an attorney evaporates in the smoke filled gatherings out at the Simms ranch in Hayward. It was a couple miles off any road, and became the gathering spot for poets, musicians, and wannabe hippies. We’d stoke up, smoke up, play music and spout wild theories about the Arts.. We didn’t think much of Ginsberg, Kerouac had already died, and the whole San Francisco party struck as ego time for a large number Artists, poets and musicians attracted by drugs, sex and rock and roll. It came as no surprise to any of us when things started going bad too many borderline personalities pretending to be part of some sort of intellectual revolution.
Eventually, I had to transition into that group in San Francisco. I wanted to get my MA in Creative Writing and San Francisco State University had this star quality….somewhat undeserved at the time. It was at the peak of student protests. The instructors were intimidated by the students. I remember sitting in the back of a literature class on Stephen Crane; wearing dark glasses and boots which I propped up on the chair in front of me. Thanks to some early publishing credits in places like The Saturday Review, and The Best College Writes in America, I had an attitude and wore it most frequently in classes. I don’t remember the instructor’s name, but we a class had a discussion about the Crane’s poetry. I argued that he was a gifted hack with a hearing trumpet for his sounds. I answered the same way on a test that he gave and he almost wimpered,”I thought we discussed that.”
“Yes, we did, but I never agreed with your position and I still don’t. He gave me an A.
That sort of thing happened frequently at State. Even one-eyed Bob Creeley asked me what grade I should assign myself, “An A,” I replied, in spite of the fact that I mostly drank wine and listened to poetry in his advance poetry craft class. It was held off campus because we were all over 21 and saw no reason not to drink. We just had to do it off campus. That’s how I got to know that little group. His friends would drop by just for the conversation. And by the way, I got an A.
Friends included, Ginsberg and his entourage. There was one long haired young blonde woman who wrote a carpe diem in an attempt to seduce Creeley. It was a snake charmer poem, thinly veiled sexual metaphor.
Somebody shot a hole in the ceiling in one of the class meetings. It was hard to keep track of who was who.
I was used to the more craft oriented Oakland/Hayward side of things. We actually studied how things were done.
S/F was my first real intro to the gossipy side of poetry, talking about poets and their foibles rather than their craft. That was largely Alan’s influence. Beat poetry, for Alan, a term that he encouraged, was mostly a group of people who liked his work and agreed with his life style. He was actively gay and wanted to change the way we looked at the world; he wanted people to see things his way. He also wanted be a part of the younger generation and its rock and roll soul. I’m not sure that I qualified for the mantle of “Beat” He and I rarely agreed upon anything. But I knew him, drank with him and we both were serious about writing in our own ways.
My sphere of influence was too eclectic for then, in that it included all media, and worked developing a craft with some core belief.. All of this with a back drop of the Vietnam War which we protested and the hippy movement, earth mothers, gypsy folk singers in a string of coffee house. When we gathered at the Simms ranch it was a musical circus. There were even quarter horses to ride. We were grounded. It was a real blend of my background and I loved it.. Ginsberg hated horses. Probably penis entry.
And there were readings by visiting poets like Robert Bly who for a time wore animal masks in an attempt to get connected with their persona. I often wore wigs and other eccentric bits and pieces from the older west. I played guitar and sang. I was never great at either one. If I remembered the words, I’d forget the music. If I played just the music, the lyrics disappeared. There is a combination of acting and being a musician involved in performing a song. The left brain/right brain coordination that I worked so hard to integrate never came easy. I think I had a secret desire to be a coffee house singer travelling from city to city. I think this desire lurked in the hearts of many poets because we saw the romantic role of bard be replayed in dimly lit coffee houses.
It still exists. Particularly in the South. There are greyhound bus blues, rockers and folk singers that annually tour and sell their CDs. These venues have much the same flavor as the old coffee houses. Everyone knows every on the tour and they learn from each other. One of my favorites is Bo Bice, the Idol runner-up to Cary Underwood. He is a musician and a father and a little bit of a story teller ala Arlo Guthrie. He is a charismatic young musician and is not afraid to admit that he loves God, although his work doesn’t fit into the category of Christian Musician. Nothing preachy in his work. There are busloads full of independents.
All I can do in this short answer is to give a feel for what it was like to be a poet when people took it seriously. Unfortunately, attempts to commercialize it, to turn it into money were largely the realm of Rock and Roll. It was the energy and volume that won in the end. The punk movement tried to put the lyric back.. Groups like Black Flag, and the Dead Kennedy’ did so satirically with heavily ironic songs like “TV Party Tonight” and the Kennedy’s “Trust your Mechanic.” All a kind of anti music. Poetry was rapidly developing a weak image and depended largely on the personalities of the poets who were beginning to write. The star power of the poets carried the weight. Bob Dylan with one foot planted firmly in American Folk and other in the joyful noise of Rock and Roll.
Dylan’s song lyrics were often hand me down American blues and English traditional before he developed a voice of his own. His strength was a musician. He could sing, but not with any beauty.
I saw myself more a poet editor. I had already published 5 editions of a mag called the White Elephant. 500 each issue. There are no known remaining copies of that series.
It later became Juice when I divorced and married Judy Lynn Brekke. She too was involved with Art and artists by way of the California College of Arts and Crafts and introduced me to a number of new artists and musicians. Joe Rees was the guru there, and he created a video production company called Target. His studio became the afterhours place to be with legendary punk rockers just beginning. We were occasionally pressed into service as videographers. I was the anchor of a local cable show that did 60 minute type news features before there was a 60 minutes so I had some experience with how to light and frame a shot.
There were several competing creative groups at the time. That’s the point of this rambling answer. We were loosely connected by a desire for an alternate way of living; one that didn’t put so much emphasis on product
The one common writer for these groups was WC Williams on our side and Ezra Pound on both sides. San Francisco, thanks to Ginsberg leaned to the wide open sexual side of Whitman.
The Plebian Rag: Staying with those early times, please do tell us about your experience of “the beat poets”. You were part of it, and for poets now you are a connection to it that cannot be over-stated. For me it was like finding (in English terms) Simon Armitage on MySpace when I met you, and I know there are many who feel the same. Poetry is a continuum, a journey, and you have become part of that. You have connected to a new generation who are just discovering “the beats” and you have done that through the electronic online medium. So please take us back, and tell us about those early experiences. Who did you work with and what were they like?
Stephen Morse: I worked with (as a student) Charles Simic, Thom Gunn, George Cuomo, and Robert Creeley.
Simic taught by reading poetry written by his influences: W.S. Merwin, Robert Creeley, William Carlos Williams, James Tate, are the ones I remember most vividly. There were others. I just don’t remember at the moment. His actual writing class consisted of his giving assignments based on the poet of the week, and a round table discussion of the results. Small class size (usually about 10) made the process workable. He was a bit of a con man that played the political part of poetry quite well. Knew all the “right” people and acted the part of being a poet in residence in a sophisticated way. Dressed as you would expect an intellectual, academic poet on the cutting edge to dress. Sports coat, slacks, no tie. Definitely not a hippy or a beatnik. He was a good literature teacher. But really taught nothing about writing. I had already been published in substantial journals, and I think perhaps that fact always made him uncomfortable.
Thom Gunn: similar teaching methodology so I’m assuming there was a universal template or syllabus that they were required to use. I was a bit dazzled by Gunn. He wore a sports coat, but leather pants. His approach to writing was more traditional. He was very much in the tradition of Walt Whitman in terms of subject matter. He wrote about contemporary experiences and what was around of him. But he worked in verse and managed to do so without seeming forced.
George Cuomo: Italian American rode a motor scooter to campus, wild curly hair and one of the most likeable people I’ve met. I worked with him as a student and a friend. His critiques were very craft oriented. My own style of critiquing is based largely on Cuomo’s. Talk about what you like; explain why. Talk about what you don’t like, and why. We’re all in this together and the comments are given to help even if that means talking about a poem negatively. Saying good things to be nice does not help. If a poem is bad, it’s bad. The poet may be a sensitive person pouring their soul out on the page, but that doesn’t mean that it’s good or bad.
Robert Creeley: He was a great resource for meeting the San Francisco writers know as Beat Poets. His class was held off campus at a convenient apartment. Bob didn’t like classrooms and we drank wine and took turns reading poetry. Creeley always knew someone that wrote poetry similar to ours, and we’d talk about what that meant. He and his friends like Ferlenghetti (poet, publisher, owns City Lights bookstore) were an important part of the poetry that came out of the San Francisco Bay area in the last half of the 20th century. Bob had a great memory for people, particularly those involved in poetry. And there were a lot of innovative, breakthrough poets around at that time. We spent a great amount of time telling stories about poets we knew. It seemed like every poet we knew was doing something with the Small Press, publishing their own literary magazines. A very rowdy bunch indeed. They had little in common except poetry and strong opinions.
I had my small mag, The White Elephant which later became Juice, and strong opinions. So I suppose it was inevitable for me to meet Creeley. I know that people are interested in the social side of that time period; what it was like and that sort of thing. It was a different culture. People were more open to trying new things, and not overly concerned about their personal images. They were one and the same.
The Plebian Rag: You were influential in the early days of the small press. How do you think the poetry will develop through the small press now. Has the internet changed all the rules or is quality still the heart of it?
Stephen Morse: I didn’t have any idea where things were going in the 60’s . I see it as a whole now, but when you’re in the middle of something, it’s hard to see the end. Kind of like living with cancer. Gonna die, we all do, but what’s going to happen between now and then? Hmmm.
The internet has been a fantastic way to distribute poetry. Much of it, quite bad. Some of it is very good. This unfiltered distribution on a global scale has to change poetry in some way. The Small Press always had one huge problem; distribution. Libraries were always interested. Most of our subscribers were libraries. A few bookstores were specialized in selling Small Press. A lot were distributed by mail; we always paid in contributor copies (2). This created a lot of word of mouth demand because there was always one to give away and this was new, new, and cool’s.
The Plebian Rag: You are a teacher and a communicator. You have worked for many years sharing your knowledge with others. If you had to give just one piece of advice to an aspiring poet what would it be?
Stephen Morse: Know yourself. What your goals. Be open to criticism. Most people aren’t very good at articulating what it is that they don’t like, and their suggestions are of little practical value. But they can help you see an area that is problematic for them. You can study that area and determine for yourself if it is doing what you wanted it to do. Sometimes, a reader simply misreads, but other times what you have done is created a “live spot” a place in the poem that calls attention to itself because of an unexpected turn of language, subject, or tone. This can be good if it’s a place where you want the reader to slow down and think about what’s going on, but it can be a problem if it is not a point you meant to emphasize. That’s where the criticism becomes valuable. Never argue with the person. Thank them for their response. And don’t explain. A poem explained becomes a frozen poem. If you quarrel with a critic, you simply cut yourself off from potentially useful feedback, but you don’t have to agree with them. It’s always your poem.
The Plebian Rag: “It’s a lot easier to talk about gutters than it is about stars”……is one of my favorite parts of the poems of yours, from “Shadow Dancing”. Do you have a favorite poem you have written, or one that you are most proud of?
Stephen Morse: Actually, I like the poem you quoted from. Because I write so many different ways, I don’t really have any favorite poems. If I get to read it aloud, my favorite poem to read is a “A Mosquito sings…” It’s just fun to read. For the same reason I like “Leprechaun” when it’s displayed with my granddaughters drawing. It makes me smile.
But generally, I like most of what I have written or I wouldn’t keep it.
Shadow Dancing – take 1
it’s a lot easier to talk about gutters than stars
gutters collect the runoff
the excess water that falls from the sky
carrying leaves, sticks, small dirts and
if there’s enough of it around, blood
washed back to the
the ocean we came from.
the gutter’s clogged
with excesses of our dead parts.
But we can’t drown stars.
their lights shine and as long as we can see them
the gutters will only collect the small parts.
of the glory of the explosions in the sky.
in the beginning there was light
the lights in the sky are stars
no gutter can hold the fury of the coming of the light
we burn and boil and rise in to the air
nothing can hold us in this universal bang
the stars would kill us if we got too close to them
the gutters are safer.
we can float there and drown the streets
with parts of once living things
killers, presidents, butterflies, and kings,
leaves, and waste…
Oily bones and vegetable power
in starlight
we cast shadows on
the gutters under our feet
and dance in the familiar waters
of the small dead things there.
The Plebian Rag: You know that I a little in awe of your skill with seemingly any form you choose. How have you achieved that, and still managed to be seen as an experimental poet? Is one a prerequisite for the other? You have to know the rules before you can push the boundaries, or is your experimentation simply a leap of the imagination?
Stephen Morse: I can’t tell you why so many experiments work or even why some of my work is considered experimental. Anytime I read a poem that I like, the first thing I think about is how did they do that? And I look for a structure. Even the freest of verse has a controlling element, sound, rhythm, or something that holds it together. Free verse is more organic. Its roots are often buried in the earth. I then try out the technique twisting it to my tastes and senseme.
The Plebian Rag: I have been reading “The dark Spots Are Crows”. It is for searingly honest and at the same time musically beautiful. “Clutch Me” for instance is beautiful to read and hear, but almost breaks the heart to understand. The same applies to the sonnet “Accidental Hell”. Was this a deliberate theme within the work, using the beauty of the words as a stark counterpoint to the darkness they describe?
Stephen Morse: Juxtaposition of unlike elements has been one my most consistent ways of writing. I rarely rant when it’s angry topic. I think it works better to use a smoother tone that highlights the anger. It’s the contrast that makes the tone stand out.
Clutch me
— claws polished
little bone hook
fingers
flesh rolled back
skeletons of
young animals
sweet fat of life
burned off —
it is too late
your hands have died
crows will eat them.
Accidental Hell
Transcendental clock time dark computer
words spit in yellow random crow feet
slip in to soft soft velvet lips and pewter
figurines on a shelf destined to meet
life’s surface in silent sound bubbles truck
rhythmically in big claws around willow
miracle with large eyes awe stricken buck
surrounded by pine and moss green pillow
manifestations,champagne and cigar
sully the night smoke darkens the door
demanding white turns grey; crisp black is tar
feathered reptilian claws spawning spoor
ownership makes love a twisted creature
with obedience its supreme feature
The Plebian Rag: My favorite poem of that book is the last, “Willow Magic”. It seems to me from the photos you post on MySpace and from reading you when you mention family at all, that her “magic” has done a lot to sustain you in your fight with ill health. There is gentleness in that poem that you do not always show. Would you agree with that, and if so is it a choice you have made in your poetry or a necessity brought on by having many battles to fight?
Stephan Morse: I agree that Willow and my family do bring out a gentler side. I would not have made it to this point in my life without their support and understanding. A psychiatrist friend says that I write with two distinct voices; one is angry, the other romantic. He was fascinated by the difference. I admit to not having a lot of conscious control of the voices. The senseme seems to dictate that, and I guess many of the things I remember clearly are the battles I have had to fight. I am not by nature, a confrontational person. But I don’t back down when attacked.
Willow Magic
I open the door
small pink hands are waving
microwave popcorn
wispy blonde hair sails
over blue eyes and a smile
paint fills the paper
princess boots sparkle
lighting the cold basement floor
seeking Dairy Queen
sit down here grandpa
how many times do I have to say it, grandpa?
can you find cinderella, grandpa, please?
grandpa’s home, look guys
grandpa’s home he’s really here
Dairy Queen, grandpa
princess eyes sparkle
turning the cold basement floor
to magic carpet
Willow magic
flies the day crows
away..
The Plebian Rag: Those who know me describe me as lazy and disorganized. You and Judy are two of the very few poets whose work I have sought out beyond MySpace. How would Judy describe your work? And I would happily take a direct answer from her, or you can tell me how you think she sees it.
Stephen Morse: Judy will answer this if she has time. Taking care of my needs and medical schedules is time consuming, so she might not have a chance to get it done. Thanks for including her in your questions.
The Plebian Rag: You have a as good an understanding of 20th century poetry as anyone I know. Who for you is the most significant and influential poet of that century?
Stephen Morse: I won’t give you one. But I’ll give you four good influences: William Carlos Williams, ee Cummings, Robert Frost, and William Blake; two bad influences: Sylvia Plath, Charles Bukowski, a handful of hard to define ones that everybody read, but few did much with: Ginsberg, Whitman, Kerouac.
I don’t know how to classify T.S. Eliot, but he along with William Blake, and Ezra Pound have enriched my poetry, but I don’t see as much of them in the works of others.
The Mother goose nursery rhymes certainly were an influence. I’d say that Dr. Seuss probably replaced Mother Goose for the boomers.
The Plebian Rag: I have been hunting through your work online for this interview. Do you have one collection that defines you? One set of poems that you would say “Yes this is the one I want to be remembered for”?
Stephen Morse: The Dark Spots are Crows is my favorite collection. It contains many of the forms I enjoyed working with side by side on the same general theme/senseme. I think it gives a pretty good idea of my range. Places that Linger I like for many of the same reasons plus I like my poetry placed with Judy’s poetry. I think it gives people a good idea who we are as a couple. Very different, but we complement each other.
The Plebian Rag: Lastly looking ahead, are there any poets writing now who you particularly admire, and if so why?
Stephen Morse: Read through Juice online and the print issues if you can get your hands on them. I wouldn’t have published them if we didn’t think that there was some likeable about their work. I don’t know that I am a prophet or that I can say who will be remembered in anthologies in 50 years from now. I’d guess that Hugh Fox, Gene Fowler, Lucille Lang Day, and Jared Smith are good bets. But I hate to get into judging my peers for fear of overlooking someone. The internet will change things in ways that I can’t even imagine. The poets I have mentioned have been primarily American poets because I am an American poet and that’s what I know best.
Thank the Plebian Rag for asking tough question
Thank you again Stephen for spending such precious time on giving these enlightening and fascinating answers.
I’m glad you did this inteview. You’ve led an interesting life. read your work often as I can and of course as you know , you are in my every day prayers.
Thank you Si for interviewing the very special giant of poetry. and thank you Stephen for giving us all your wonderful works and for taking the time to be here
much love and blessings sent Stormy
I agree with everything you say in your advice to aspiring poets Stephen. This whole article has been very absobing – having never read any of your work before, I am tempted to look you up. There is an impartiality and ingrained honesty ( I wish my lecturers had asked me what grades I required) that is quite refreshing. All best wishes – Lekh.
This interview was beautifully orchestrated…kept me interested all the way. Agree with many of the points Stephen Morse makes here, particularly about substance and boredom!
Thanks, Si.
A truly wonderful interview. Although I have to disagree regarding Bukowski….
Thank you to both you Stephen and Si, for an insightful and informative interview. Much respect to you both and I am sending you posistive thoughts Stephen.
Thanks again
Kevin
Gentlemen, I thoroughly enjoyed this engrossing and Intriguing interview, especially the walk through the process of composing a poem. Trying to pin the label “last living beat poet” on Mr. Morse seems misguided, and certainly erroneous, as several poets of the original Beats are still alive. Gary Snyder was just recently in the Seattle area visiting his old hometown and Michael McClure recently performed in NYC as part of the Burroughs celebraton.
The question of which poets exert the most dominant influence of our times I find endlessly interesting. Mr. Morse mentioned only poets writing in English but one does not have to wander far to find the influence of foreign poets in translation that have influenced many many American writers. The old Greeks,.particularly Sappho; Rainier Maria Rilke is pervasive; Those darn French, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Celan; In Spanish, Lorca and Neruda.
Thanks again for a fine interview.
Sigerson, we are aware that he is not the “last” we wanted to just make it known that he is being honored for his works and contribution to the scene. That is why we said he is “one” of the last remaining beat poets… thanks for taking the time to read.
Good interview with good questions. I am going to check out Juice.
Thanks for your comment Sigerson. I am glad you enjoyed it. Trust you to pick that up. The full quote was “Last living beat poet from the Oakland side of the San Fransisco Bay”.
I used it partly as a hook to introduce him to a new generation of poets who admire the beats but do not realise they have one posting on myspace, and partly to make the point that he is so much more than that.
Thanks for reading my friend.
This is a great interview Si and thanks to Stephen for your insight..it is truly invaluable. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.
Wonderful interview. Thank you Si, you did a great job of it!! To Stephen Morse you are an amazing poet! I wish you many more “good”days.” I so enjoy reading your poetry.