{"id":7218,"date":"2014-02-24T07:00:55","date_gmt":"2014-02-24T12:00:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/?p=7218"},"modified":"2014-02-23T16:07:49","modified_gmt":"2014-02-23T21:07:49","slug":"2-poets-4-questions-qa-with-eugenia-leigh-and-hossannah-asuncion","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/2014\/02\/24\/2-poets-4-questions-qa-with-eugenia-leigh-and-hossannah-asuncion\/","title":{"rendered":"2 Poets, 4 Questions: Q&A with Eugenia Leigh and Hossannah Asuncion"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Eugenia<\/a>
Eugenia Leigh (L; Photo by An Rong Xu) and Hossannah Asuncion (R; Photo by Naomi Miller<\/a>)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Today, we bring you the second installment in our mini series “2 Poets, 4 Questions.” Each week in this series, we’re pairing up two different emerging APIA poets and asking them to answer a set of four identical questions. Today\u2019s installment features two New\u00a0York\u2014based poets who are both alumnae of Sarah Lawrence College’s MFA program and Los Angeles transplants: Eugenia Leigh<\/a> (author of the forthcoming<\/em>\u00a0Blood, Sparrows and Sparrows) and<\/em>\u00a0Hossannah Asuncion<\/a> (author of the\u00a0chapbook<\/em>\u00a0Fragments of Loss<\/a>).<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

1.<\/strong><\/p>\n

LR: February, when we\u2019re entrenched in the miserablest depths of winter, always seems to be a month of cravings: for indulgent foods, for human connection, for warmth, for light, for the coming of spring. (Margaret Atwood called it<\/a> \u201ca month of despair, \/ with a skewered heart in the centre\u201d when one thinks \u201cdire thoughts, and lust[s] for French fries with a splash of vinegar.\u201d) As a poet, what are your literary cravings? What whets your creative appetite, haunts you, and keeps you coming back for more?<\/strong><\/p>\n

EL:<\/strong>\u00a0My obsessions and \u201cliterary cravings\u201d vary in accordance with my life seasons. They\u2019re usually songs. Sometimes quotes. When I feel restless with those \u201cdire thoughts\u201d Atwood warns us about, I will expend myself tracking down the one song that resonates in both meaning and mood, then sit still and loop that song through my earphones for hours. Or I will stare at a quote for any length of time to absorb its meaning. This Franz Kafka quote, for example, carried me through bitter homesickness when I first moved to New York: \u201cIt is not necessary that you leave the house. Remain at your table and listen. Do not even listen, only wait. Do not even wait, be wholly still and alone. The world will present itself to you for its unmasking, it can do no other, in ecstasy it will writhe at your feet.\u201d At the risk of sounding insane, I\u2019ll admit I would stare at these words for entire evenings because I believed I could will them to come true.<\/span><\/p>\n

During the season that produced my first book, I spent hours alone with Brand New\u2019s 2006 album, The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me.<\/i> Especially \u201cThe Archers\u2019 Bows Have Broken.\u201d I was far from having any semblance of faith in anything at the time, but I couldn\u2019t get enough of the idea of \u201ca God that we found lying under the backseat\u201d or a God in other mundane or sacrilegious positions and scenarios. In 2008, when I moved to New York, The Fray\u2019s \u201cYou Found Me\u201d gave me a similar haven. The God in this song is \u201csmoking his last cigarette,\u201d so I trusted this God enough to indulge the idea of him. Maybe it\u2019s correct to say I\u2019m always lusting after the other worlds beyond this one. The Unseen. Unless a piece of art has an element of the mystical or the supernatural or the impossible, it\u2019s difficult for me to crave it. Love it and be moved by it, sure. But likely not lust<\/i> after it.<\/p>\n

HA:\u00a0<\/strong>I experienced an almost hubris recently that I, \u00a0a poet\u2014an occupant in the field of emotional cryptology, \u00a0am actually very not-knowing of my feelings. \u00a0And so I like words that investigate and excavate\u2014I like vulnerability and searching. I very much like the answer,\u00a0I don\u2019t know, but here is the doing and undoing of my world of questioning.<\/em>\u00a0The poets who are doing that for me right now are Ocean Vuong and Eduardo Corral.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

2.<\/strong><\/p>\n

LR:\u00a0Tell us about your book\/chapbook: how did it come to be, and when did you know that the manuscript was ready to be sent out into the world?<\/strong><\/p>\n

EL:\u00a0<\/strong>I didn\u2019t mean to write the poems I ultimately came to write for <\/span>Blood, Sparrows and Sparrows<\/i>. I never intended to write about my family, for example. But two of my earliest poet mentors, Laure-Anne Bosselaar-Brown and Marie Howe, both challenged me to write as though everyone I loved would never see my poems. Laure-Anne also taught me that an element of craft just as essential as excellent line breaks is \u201cemotional impulse,\u201d which can be tested by asking, \u201cWhat made the writer unable to remain silent?\u201d She helped me parse the difference between the poems I wanted to write and the poems I <\/span>had<\/i> to write.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m an impatient human, so I sent my manuscript out a bit prematurely, almost as soon as I graduated with an MFA. I did have the blessing of several teachers who assured me that my book was \u201cdone\u201d and that I should begin to submit the manuscript, but in hindsight, I\u2019m grateful it took another few years (and several new poems) before Four Way Books accepted it for publication. The one positive thing about sending out an almost-but-not-yet-finished manuscript into the real world is that it instilled a severe urgency in me. Knowing that actual humans were reading my manuscript forced me to revise it obsessively and often albeit in a mode of near-panic.<\/p>\n

HA:<\/strong>\u00a0Fragments of Loss<\/em>\u00a0comes from another life\u2014the poems in there were written right after graduate school about seven years ago\u2014I was starting to work full-time and I was just getting to know New York City. I had read something and I felt this pang of creative jealousy\u2014I wish I had written that, I thought. I then re-read it and realized I had misread. It was an amazing recognition\u2014I wrote those poems down and fast. Also, the lens of looking at my world at that time was heavily influenced by Rachel Cohen\u2019s essay, “Lost Cities<\/a>.”<\/p>\n

As for being ready\u2014I didn\u2019t think the manuscript for\u00a0Fragments<\/em>\u00a0probably was ready, but I sent it on a whim, on the day of the deadline.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

3.<\/strong><\/p>\n

LR:\u00a0You\u2019re both Los Angeles transplants to New York City. What do you enjoy most about being a writer in New York? How has the character and physical space of the city influenced your creative life?<\/strong><\/p>\n

EL:\u00a0<\/strong>When I\u2019m in California, I\u2019m noticeably a fish out of water. In the New York I know\u2014the transplant\u2019s New York, which E. B. White calls \u201cthe city of final destination\u201d\u2014I feel understood by default. The New Yorkers I\u2019ve come across\u2014both artists and not\u2014have a frenetic, ambitious energy I resonate with and admire. They\u2019re not afraid of destroying themselves in order to constantly become better than themselves. I mean \u201cdestroy\u201d in the most positive way possible. Maybe something closer to \u201csacrifice\u201d or \u201creconstruct.\u201d The physical space of the city is as ambitious as its inhabitants: I love how many humans and cultures are crammed into a relatively small frame. New York City offers every square inch of itself during every second of the day to be used and challenged and renewed. It\u2019s no wonder New Yorkers do the same with themselves. For this reason, it\u2019s also a dangerous city. You need to protect your journey here, even if it means retreating from external pressures from time to time. All New Yorkers need regular Sabbaths or consistent Emily Dickinson days to keep from burning out.<\/span><\/p>\n

HA:\u00a0<\/strong>I love New York City so fucking much. I love New York City as heartbroken asshole. I love New York City as kind weirdo. I think it\u2019s a hard place, yes\u2014it\u2019s a sentient city\u2014it can easily feel like you\u2019re fighting with New York so you\u2014not this tormented megalopolis\u2014is writing your story. But everyone I know here is charged and electric with curiosity\u2014and everyone is so specific in how they are asking their big questions\u2014sometimes it\u2019s with words, or with art projects.<\/p>\n

That being said, it [was] in the 80s [last] week in Los Angeles. ::sigh::<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

4.<\/strong><\/p>\n

LR:\u00a0A former teacher of mine [Iris\u2019s] once recommended that writers should have at least one other creative outlet to which they can turn when they reach their wit\u2019s end with their writing. Do you have hobbies or creative passions outside of your writing? How do you recharge when you\u2019re feeling beaten down creatively?<\/strong><\/p>\n

EL:\u00a0<\/strong>When I was a student, I asked Cathy Park Hong which books I should read in order to become a better poet, and she said, \u201cRead nonfiction.\u201d When I said, \u201cWhat kind?\u201d she said, \u201cAnything that remotely interests you. Learn something new.\u201d She\u2019s a genius. It\u2019s remarkable how well nonfiction recharges my creative batteries. I have a subscription to the <\/span>Scientific American<\/i> and am currently knee-deep in a 9-month-long course that involves hefty theological and philosophical texts. All this factual, nonfiction reading material pulls me away from my writing productively because they help me miss my writing and return to it with newfound fuel.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I was younger, I dabbled in writing music (badly) and sewing purses and clothes (also badly). But now it\u2019s difficult for me to transfer my creative energy to another art that also requires me to sit very still. I suppose now those hobbies have been replaced with kickboxing classes. Or I will have solo dance parties in my bedroom where I\u2019ll blast music and shimmy around for a good hour before sitting down at my desk. One year ago, I decided to learn a new physical activity, so I took swimming lessons. I\u2019m figuring out that a reliable way for me to recharge my mind is by challenging my body.<\/p>\n

HA:\u00a0<\/strong>I like projects. A lot. I like one-offs and short-term schemes. I\u2019ve done\u00a0one-line love letter bombs<\/a>. I\u2019ve\u00a0stuffed poems in pill bottles<\/a>. I like making\u00a0literary-themed gifts<\/a>\u00a0every now and then. I\u2019ve done a supper club with writers\/artists. It seems I like my projects to inhabit a physical space and it\u2019s even more satisfying if there\u2019s a sense of an interaction. I like doing\/making stuff that gets me out of my head\u2014once that static is outside it feels a lot less lonely and the disorder can resemble a kind of pretty.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Eugenia\u00a0Leigh<\/a><\/strong>\u00a0is the author of\u00a0<\/em>Blood, Sparrows and Sparrows<\/span>\u00a0(Four Way Books, 2014), which was a finalist for the National Poetry Series and the Yale Series of Younger Poets. Her writing has appeared in several publications including\u00a0<\/em>The Collagist,\u00a0Indiana Review,<\/span> and the\u00a0<\/em>Best New Poets<\/span>\u00a0anthology. The recipient of fellowships and awards from\u00a0<\/em>Poets & Writers Magazine, Kundiman,\u00a0<\/em>Rattle,<\/span> and the\u00a0<\/em>Asian American Literary Review,<\/span>\u00a0Eugenia\u00a0serves as the poetry editor of\u00a0<\/em>Kartika Review.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hossannah Asuncion<\/strong><\/a>\u00a0grew up near the 710 freeway in Los Angeles and currently lives near an A\/C stop in Brooklyn. Her work has been published by the Poetry Society of America,\u00a0<\/em>Tuesday; An Art Project, The Collagist, Anti-\u00a0and other fine places.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Today, we bring you the second installment in our mini series “2 Poets, 4 Questions.” Each week in this series, we’re pairing up two different emerging APIA poets and asking them to answer a set of four identical questions. Today\u2019s installment features two New\u00a0York\u2014based poets who are both alumnae of Sarah Lawrence College’s MFA program […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0},"categories":[1036,7],"tags":[1039,1056,1041,1040,1037],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7218"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7218"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7218\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7226,"href":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7218\/revisions\/7226"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7218"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7218"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.lanternreview.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7218"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}