Interview with Richard Levine
How does the natural world shape your creativity and aspirations?
The natural world is our life support system. It is like breast milk to a baby, and an endless source of wonder. I do not only write about forests, birds or mountains, or coming upon the scent of clover as a source of revelation. But nature is in everything I do write about, because no matter how cosmopolitan we may be, we remain part of it. I think it expands the range of my senses, giving them access to a view of the world and my place in it that I wouldn’t otherwise have. To walk dwarfed among trees, to swim in the ocean’s tidal embrace, to care for plants and soil, with the process of photosynthesis quaking under my hands, heightens my experience of what it is to be alive. In that state, creativity seems a natural process. Aspiring to nurture nature is an act of self-preservation. It is also a satisfying pursuit.
When you lose your “waking angel,” the force of inspiration and imagination in your life, how do you recover it?
I think it has a mind and whims of its own, so I don’t try to control it. Like all worker bees, I show up for work and hope that my “waking angel” does, too. When she doesn’t, I never think it means that she’s gone out for a pack of cigarettes and is never coming back. If I still feel ambitious when she’s AWOL, there are always craft tasks I can do, like decoding or editing one of her recent gifts.
Can you share a favorite line of poetry that speaks to you, and tell us why?
Here’s one I love, because it accomplishes so many of the things poetry can do in a few words. It’s from Pablo Neruda’s “The Morning is Full.” (Translation by W.S. Merwin.) I used part of this as the title of my first book, A Language Full of Wars and Songs.
Orchestral and devine, resounding among the trees,
like a language full of wars and songs.
Zumbando entre los árboles, orquestal y divino,
como una lengua llena de guerras y de cantos.
Presenting the sound of wind in trees as orchestral, and equating that with the language expressing man’s most shockingly opposite aspirations – to make war and make songs – is as powerful as it is economical. In 16 words, he captures the best and worst in us, and roots us in nature.
Richard Levine’s Now in Contest is forthcoming from Fernwood Press. A retired NYC teacher, he is also the author of Richard Levine: Selected Poems (FutureCycle Press, 2019), Contiguous States (Finishing Line Press, 2018), and five chapbooks. An Advisory Editor of BigCityLit.com, he is the recipient of the 2021 Connecticut Poetry Society Award. His review “Poetry for a Pandemic,” appeared in American Book Review, Nov-Dec 2020, and the review “The Spoils of War” is forthcoming. website: richardlevine107.com.
The natural world is our life support system. It is like breast milk to a baby, and an endless source of wonder. I do not only write about forests, birds or mountains, or coming upon the scent of clover as a source of revelation. But nature is in everything I do write about, because no matter how cosmopolitan we may be, we remain part of it. I think it expands the range of my senses, giving them access to a view of the world and my place in it that I wouldn’t otherwise have. To walk dwarfed among trees, to swim in the ocean’s tidal embrace, to care for plants and soil, with the process of photosynthesis quaking under my hands, heightens my experience of what it is to be alive. In that state, creativity seems a natural process. Aspiring to nurture nature is an act of self-preservation. It is also a satisfying pursuit.
When you lose your “waking angel,” the force of inspiration and imagination in your life, how do you recover it?
I think it has a mind and whims of its own, so I don’t try to control it. Like all worker bees, I show up for work and hope that my “waking angel” does, too. When she doesn’t, I never think it means that she’s gone out for a pack of cigarettes and is never coming back. If I still feel ambitious when she’s AWOL, there are always craft tasks I can do, like decoding or editing one of her recent gifts.
Can you share a favorite line of poetry that speaks to you, and tell us why?
Here’s one I love, because it accomplishes so many of the things poetry can do in a few words. It’s from Pablo Neruda’s “The Morning is Full.” (Translation by W.S. Merwin.) I used part of this as the title of my first book, A Language Full of Wars and Songs.
Orchestral and devine, resounding among the trees,
like a language full of wars and songs.
Zumbando entre los árboles, orquestal y divino,
como una lengua llena de guerras y de cantos.
Presenting the sound of wind in trees as orchestral, and equating that with the language expressing man’s most shockingly opposite aspirations – to make war and make songs – is as powerful as it is economical. In 16 words, he captures the best and worst in us, and roots us in nature.
Richard Levine’s Now in Contest is forthcoming from Fernwood Press. A retired NYC teacher, he is also the author of Richard Levine: Selected Poems (FutureCycle Press, 2019), Contiguous States (Finishing Line Press, 2018), and five chapbooks. An Advisory Editor of BigCityLit.com, he is the recipient of the 2021 Connecticut Poetry Society Award. His review “Poetry for a Pandemic,” appeared in American Book Review, Nov-Dec 2020, and the review “The Spoils of War” is forthcoming. website: richardlevine107.com.