He’s back, everybody.
Poet Stephen C. Pollock is set to release his debut collection “Exits” (Windtree Press, June 29). When his career in academic medicine wound up taking all of his time, Pollock opted to put poetry on the back burner—but the desire to return was always there.
In this interview, we look at the work collected in “Exits,” which features a different work of art paired with each poem. Pollock talks about the pairing process, how it feels to be back, and his plans for future releases.
I understand this book marks a return to poetry after 26 years. What caused this hiatus?
My original career in academic medicine intervened. After I graduated from Amherst College, I trained for 10 years to become a physician, ophthalmologist, and neuro-ophthalmologist. In 1987, I was recruited to Duke University as Chief of Neuro-Ophthalmology, eventually achieving a rank of Associate Professor with tenure. I ended up serving on the full-time faculty for 17 years.
Some physicians are able to write poetry throughout their medical careers. I didn’t belong to that group. For me, maintaining a consultative practice in neuro-ophthalmology, training residents and fellows, publishing clinical research papers in medical journals, and carrying out a variety of administrative responsibilities was all-consuming.
While the instinct to write poetry was completely suppressed throughout this period, it was not extinguished. As I cut back on academic responsibilities during my last year at Duke, that instinct began to slowly reassert itself.
How did it feel to be back?
Surprised, thrilled and thankful! Ideas for poems began to percolate to the surface beginning in 2003, and the impetus to write has continued to make its presence felt, though at irregular intervals.
Did you have to spend any time getting back into the flow of your work?
I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t actually have a flow. I have always been undisciplined with respect to writing poems, as evidenced by the fact that I have no set writing schedule. In contrast to most other poets, I lack the ability to sit down daily at my desk and call forth ideas and/or personal experiences to serve as the basis for new poems. Nor have I ever relied on writing prompts to prime my poetry pump. Instead, I wait for lightning to strike (or, mixing metaphors, for the Muse to whisper in my ear). The unpredictability of this approach means that I never know when the next poem will materialize.
Once I begin writing, however, I become intensely focused. When fully engaged and maximally productive, my efforts typically result in four new lines of poetry per day (derived from perhaps a dozen pages of notes and drafts).
Is there an overall theme to the book? If so, how is this captured in the poems?
The overall theme is mortality — disease and decline, death and remembrance. Many of the metaphors are drawn from nature. However, despite the unifying theme, the book features a potpourri of styles, ranging from formal poems to free verse to hybrid variants. At the same time, the poems don’t conform to contemporary genres. I’m hopeful that readers will sense a timeless quality to the work.
I like that you paired art with the poems. How did you go about selecting the works?
The decision to include visual art was an intuitive one. I sensed that many of the poems would resonate in interesting ways with visual images and that this would enhance the reader’s experience.
While a few of the images were selected solely for illustrative purposes (e.g. the image of a goldfinch and a coneflower accompanying “Seeds”), most were chosen because they offered alternative slants on the content of the poems. Though the poem “(eclipse)” drips with erotic innuendo, it’s paired with the image of a 1908 patent for an orrery, a mechanical device that replicates the motion of the earth around the sun and the moon around the earth. The sonnet “Nasal Biopsy” is ostensibly about a surgical procedure, but a cathedral door was chosen to accompany the poem because the speaker perceives gothic architecture in the anatomy of the nose and because the poem is ultimately concerned with questions of faith.
This is likely a tough question, but do any of your poems in this book stand out?
It’s an easier question than you might think. “Seeds” is the best sonnet in the collection, and “Syringe” is probably the most original and creative long poem I’ve ever written. “Arachnidæa: Line Drawings” seems to connect with readers, given that it was a finalist in one statewide competition and was awarded second prize in another statewide competition.
What’s the editing process once you’ve finished a poem?
Intense and merciless. Editing, often over months or years, is critical to achieving the desired outcome. I’ve learned that a satisfying first draft almost always begins to exhibit flaws after sufficient time has passed to afford an objective assessment. For example, the eight-line poem “(eclipse)” underwent 19 revisions over as many years.
I really like the cover for the book. Where did this concept come from?
I’m so glad you like the cover. This is the first opportunity I’ve had to discuss how it came to be.
The first step was to select a photo. I knew I wanted a black-and-white image, so I reviewed hundreds of stock photos filtered by terms such as “mortality” and “death.” Most of the options consisted of skulls or illustrations of the grim reaper, which seemed more appropriate for decorating a Halloween party. However, when I came across this image of a bare tree against a threatening sky, I immediately gravitated toward its ambiguity. Is the tree dead, or is it merely dormant? Do the ominous clouds portend a storm? I also loved how the main trunk contrasts with the lightest part of the sky.
The next step was to crop the photo for a 6" x 9" format, which I did in a way that preserved the visibility of both trunks but didn’t allow the tips of the branches to extend to the cover margins.
I then selected Adobe Caslon Pro as the font for the title. (This is a contemporary version of the font originally designed by William Caslon, an 18th-century English typographer). Consistent with all of the headings in the book, the title was rendered in all caps with the first letter larger than the rest. Note how the serif of the uppermost arm of the “E” points directly toward the serif of the adjacent “X.”
To the casual observer, all of the letters of the title are white. But that’s an illusion. All are shades of light gray, and each letter is a different shade. My objective was to maintain consistent contrast across the title. However, because the clouds become darker from left to right, the letters of the title had to do the same if they were to appear similar to an observer. The letters of the author’s name also employ a range of light grays in order to achieve the same effect.
Other features of the cover that required decision-making included: the position of the title; the font sizes of the title (66 pt / 46 pt); the position, font style, and font size of the author name; and the distance between letters. Regarding the latter, the “X” and the “I” in the title had to be separated by an additional 2 pt in order to keep their serifs from touching.
Do you foresee more books in the future?
Given my age (67), reduced life expectancy (due to longstanding multiple sclerosis), and my undisciplined and unpredictable writing schedule, I doubt that additional books will be forthcoming. But you never know…
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