Language Play by Leah Umansky

What I’m drawn to is not only the beauty of rhythmic language, but the pacing itself. In my own work, I’m always stealing from the work of other writers, from their diaries, from newspapers, and from bits of conversation that I overhear. Most of what I’m stealing relates to sound: rhythm, rhyme, tone and word choice.

Driftsaid by Peter Milne Greiner

My other friend, Andrew, says that the dictionary does not define words, our sensibilities as poets do. Which is sort of why I think it’s important to mispronounce quay and forte because if you don’t, well, confusion will ensue. But what’s wrong with that. Do with meaning what you do with sound. Alter it slightly.

Q&A: Lauren Hunter

I haven’t really had to rail against traditional/popular styles, but as a listener, I certainly rail against it. Your poem will, yes, speak for itself on the page. It should. But if I’m watching you read, you better be speaking for your poems. It’s your job to bring me inside of them. It’s your job to make me care.

Q&A: Lisa Marie Basile

I suppose there is a certain music in my poetry in that it functions as a story, with high points and low, choruses and verses both predictable and organic—and not. I think my ‘style’ allows me to tell a whole tale, and build a world based not only on linguistics but definitive story, like a lot of music does.

Q&A: Julia Clare Tillinghast

I didn’t want to censor myself or be polite, etc. I wanted to resist the WASP-y Midwestern culture I grew up in. This made a louder more long-winded style. I want desperately to communicate with the people who are listening to me read, so I perform, I put feeling into it, I acknowledge the rhythm and meter and music and diction by modulating my voice.