Meaning and Inspiration

My first poetry reading. I was not sure what to expect as I entered the cozy, crowded corner of the Prairie Lights Bookstore adorned with green chairs, and took a seat amongst the towering shelves of books lining the walls. The mood in the room is mixed. Some, like myself, appear clearly apprehensive, as though they, like myself, have never attended a poetry reading before. They sit in silence, eagerly anticipating the reading. Others--frequenters of such events, I would assume--chat away with one another. Shortly after seven, a woman takes the stage to introduce the reader.

Zach Savich is introduced to the crowd as a graduate of the University of Iowa's Writers' Workshop and winner of the Iowa Poetry Prize. He is described as having the ability to capture the mergence of romance and reality within his work. These are topics of particular interest to me. As he takes the stage, I am relieved at his noninvasive presence. He appears to be almost as nervous to be speaking as I am to be there. 

He begins by posing the question, "What do people imagine when they're writing poems?" I consider this. Where do people draw their inspiration? And how does that define them as a poet? He answers for himself through out the reading, telling the audience that he draws inspiration from his friends and coworkers, as well as legendary figures such as Don Quixote. Shakespeare, and Charlie Chaplin. Many of his poems are reminiscent of others' thoughts and happenings. I find it reassuring that he, a prize-winning poet, draws inspiration from those he looks up to. I am inspired.

In terms of his work, I found the poems themselves a bit confusing. I could not tell where one poem ended and the next began, or whether they were a series of longer poems. Between what I deem to be poems, he stops and addresses the audience. He speaks to some people specifically, primarily friends and people he has gone out with the night before. He sympathizes with those who feel bored by the long, rambling poems that don't speak to them and promises to read only his most meaningful material and finish at a reasonable time. He finished ten minutes later, presenting the whole reading in just a little over half an hour. 

In the short time that he presented, I listened carefully to his work to try and find that important meaning he had described. The moment when it all makes sense. It was in his poem inspired by Don Quixote that I discovered the line which inspired me the most. Buried within the long, confusing poem was the notion that everything is "out of order, but related." This notion struck a chord with me. This line alone helped me to understand the rest of his poetry--his constant jumping from topic to topic--the disconnect within and between every work. It made me delve deeper into his words and search for my own interpretation of ways in which the random, disordered topics relate and connect to make sense. I believe that I was able to discover the 'meaning' Savich had implied: it is unique to every individual based on their personal inspirations and interpretations. 

-Caitlin Ward

Virgin

Poetry is a divine way to express inner thoughts and perspectives on life. Not only is this something new to me, but so is everything that goes along with Professor Chasar's class. I have never studied poetry to the degree that my peers in this class have, and I am being introduced to many new things. One being a live poetry reading. At first I was skeptical of the attention span I would have while sitting in the audience listening to an unknown name to me, when everyone around me seemed to be squirming in their seats with big smiles waiting anxiously for the speaker to approach the tiny podium. As a young-looking man timidly walked up to the audience after a brief introduction, he seemed more intimidated by the situation than I did. Looking around at a broad age range of audience, I soon realized this is a big deal. The eager listeners encouraged me to take more of an interest in not only Zach Savage, but also poetry readings themselves.

Zach Savich, a former U of I student, quickly broke the awkward silence. He gave a few shout outs, made a few personal jokes, and paused. I sat there, clueless to the references of his former professors and lost in a big room with chairs filled with people. Even though I felt like everything he was going to say would go over my head, I sat there patiently trying to figure out what this was all about.

His smile was genuine. Almost looking as though he did not deserve to be there, he still held his head high and smiled. After giving an interesting brief history of his writing, he introduced his book he would be reading from. Then I felt comfortable. Finally, I thought, this is what I walked down to Prairie Lights to be a part of. Then he raised a question before he read his work aloud: "What do you write for? What do you think of when you write, and how do you portray this?" I paused. Seeing as how I've only written one occasional poem, I really thought about his questions. Is there nothing I am passionate about in my life that I can't, like Zach, write a poem expressing my perspective? Or is what I am passionate for not clearly recognized to the point where I can express my perspective to tell a poetic story? Maybe there is just something I'm not understanding.

Zach's voice was clear, but timid. I felt like he was nervous, which made me nervous too! He finally recited a poem—and, to my disappointment, with little enthusiasm. Or was this the way that his poetry is read aloud? I can not blame him for being nervous, but his presentation did not do his poems justice. Just as we had discussed in class, some poems are written for the page and some for the stage. After putting aside his actual presentation, it was easy for me to listen and understand the context of what he was saying, and really enjoy them.

Zach writes with such romanticism, and he mentioned he draws a lot of inspiration from Shakespeare. This was something I felt I could relate to—a romantic point of view—and after listening to his poems I felt a connection to the whole atmosphere. With each poem, I grew more intrigued, like I was finally understanding why Professor Chasar assigned these reviews.

After all was said and done, the whole experience only lasted an hour. Even though Zach invited us to stay and chat after, I felt as though I needed time to reflect on my experience instead of making random small talk with him. I feel like I am more prepared and have a better mindset for the next reading I will attend.

by Whitney Overmire

"Then we made love with our hands up"

I arrive at Prairie Lights on Wednesday, March 25^th at about 6:55 pm. This being the first poetry reading I have ever attended, I am pleased to see a member of my class whom I knew frequently attends such readings. I sit next to her and look around, taking in my surroundings. Green plastic chairs are set up in the upstairs area of Prairie Lights; I have an odd moment during which I cannot remember what the area looks like without these chairs. By 7:00 pm, there are maybe about 40 people there, filling almost all of the green plastic chairs. Though, reader, do not necessarily take my word for it, as this critic is incredibly bad at approximating numbers of people. The reading does not start until after 7:05, at which point a woman who I do not know (presumably an employee of Prairie Lights?) introduces Zach Savich. He is to read from his book, Full Catastrophe Living. She describes his work, saying that it addresses the gap between “romance and reality” while “inventing a new world versus staying true to this one.” I like this.

A young man wearing jeans and a collared shirt approaches the podium and immediately begins to read, the words rolling off of his tongue in a slightly monotone manner. He seems nervous, but is simultaneously endearing. He is clearly happy and excited to be there, and he expresses this sentiment. I realize as he begins to read that it is difficult for me to hear poems read aloud; it is hard for me to follow him, and I find myself wishing that I could go back and reread certain passages. The way he reads confuses me slightly. At first, I think that he is reading separate poems and not naming their titles, until I realize that he is reading one long poem and putting what, in retrospect, seem to be meaningful breaks between phrases. I cannot decide if I like this or not.

I do decide, however, that I like the way he speaks while casually addressing the audience better than the way he speaks while reading his poetry. He is funny as he talks to us. After his first short reading, he immediately jumps into posing the following question: “What do you imagine when you write poetry?” He engages us, and seems genuinely interested in the answers that we may have put forth if we had had time to give them. Before beginning his next poem, Savich says, “I get lonelier with every poem I read, so come, let’s say hi afterward.” I find this invitation to be a reminder that he is human, and he seems to be saying that he is as interested in us as we are in him. However, one thing that I do not like about his casual speech to the audience is the way that he addresses certain individuals. He mentions names of people who I do not know and the things they have done together – some people chuckle. This makes me feel like an outsider. Some other people may feel this way as well. I notice a man in the front row who continually smiles at Savich throughout the entire reading; I feel as though he must know Savich. A bored college-age guy in the second row on the side looks as though he might be sleeping and a girl in the back row examines her nails. They may not be so personally connected. Maybe they feel like me.

As Savich continues through his readings, I am struck by two particular lines. They are from two different poems, but unfortunately I am not aware of the names of the poems that they are from:

“Part of you is in pain and you say, “I am in pain” and it’s all of you.

Part of you is numb and you say “I am numb” and it’s more psychological.”

I love this verse simply because of the incredible truth of the statement. It strikes me as something incredibly meaningful and incredibly common, while also being something that people do not often think about.

The other verse that I find compelled to write down is the following:

“Then we made love with our hands up.”

Though this line is obviously quite short and simple, I find it to be interesting because Savich raises his right hand as he says it, the only gesture that accompanies any of his poems throughout the entire reading. His action makes the line seem important to me. It makes me feel as though if nothing else, THIS I should internalize. Why, I cannot exactly say.

I liked Zach Savich very much as a person, though his style of poetry was not the kind that I most prefer to read. I wish that I could have had the book in front of me while he read from it. However, I would not discourage anyone from going to one of his readings; I found him to be an endearing and interesting poet.

-Rachel McNamee