THE SYNCREATE PODCAST: EMPOWERING CREATIVITY
HOSTED BY MELINDA ROTHOUSE, PHD
WELCOME TO SYNCREATE, WHERE WE EXPLORE THE INTERSECTIONS BETWEEN CREATIVITY,
PSYCHOLOGY, AND SPIRITUALITY. OUR GOAL IS TO DEMYSTIFY THE CREATIVE PROCESS,
AND EXPAND THE BOUNDARIES OF WHAT IT MEANS TO BE CREATIVE.
SUBSCRIBE / FOLLOW US ON SPOTIFY, APPLE PODCASTS, YOUTUBE
OR WHEREVER YOU GET YOUR PODCASTS
HOSTED BY MELINDA ROTHOUSE, PHD
WELCOME TO SYNCREATE, WHERE WE EXPLORE THE INTERSECTIONS BETWEEN CREATIVITY,
PSYCHOLOGY, AND SPIRITUALITY. OUR GOAL IS TO DEMYSTIFY THE CREATIVE PROCESS,
AND EXPAND THE BOUNDARIES OF WHAT IT MEANS TO BE CREATIVE.
SUBSCRIBE / FOLLOW US ON SPOTIFY, APPLE PODCASTS, YOUTUBE
OR WHEREVER YOU GET YOUR PODCASTS
EPISODE 95: POETRY, NATURE, AND BEAUTIFUL MISTAKES
WITH BRIAN KIRVEN
listen to the audio podcast here:
WATCH THE FULL VIDEO VERSION HERE:
Brian Kirven is a poet, traveler, and teacher living in Point Reyes Station in Northern California. He's the author of Shorelines: A Traveler Comes Home to the Tide Zone. He's served as a California Poet in the Schools, as well as the Poetry Inside Out program, and hosted a radio show on KWMR in Point Reyes for many years. His poetry has been featured in numerous literary journals, including California Quarterly, Inverness Almanac, The Kerf, West Marin Review, and most recently, the Haight Ashbury Literary Journal. His work is rooted in a deep sense of place and connection to nature. Our conversation focuses on his writing process, his sources of inspiration, and his teaching.
For our Creativity Pro-Tip, we encourage you to explore the exercise of beautiful mistakes, as Brian shares in the episode, to closely observe the world around you and play with metaphor, even if silly and absurd, as a sense of inspiration.
Credits: The Syncreate podcast is created and hosted by Melinda Rothouse, and produced at Record ATX studios with in collaboration Michael Osborne and 14th Street Studios in Austin, Texas. Syncreate logo design by Dreux Carpenter.
If you enjoy this episode and want to learn more about the creative process, you might also like our conversations in
Episode 6: Gratitude, Gentleness, and Generosity with Mayela Padilla Manasjan
Episode 83: Proprioception with C. Prudence Arceneaux
Episode 87: Dreams and Creativity with Musician, Poet & Psychotherapist Linus Streckfus
At Syncreate, we're here to support your creative endeavors. If you have an idea for a project or a new venture, and you’re not sure how to get it off the ground, please reach out to us. Our book, also called Syncreate, walks you through the stages of the creative process so you can take action on your creative goals. We also offer resources, creative process tools, and coaching, including a monthly coaching group, to help you bring your work to the world. You can find more information here on on our website, where you can also find all of our podcast episodes.
Find and connect with us on social media and YouTube under Syncreate, and we’re now on Patreon as well.
If you enjoy the show, please subscribe and leave us a review!
For our Creativity Pro-Tip, we encourage you to explore the exercise of beautiful mistakes, as Brian shares in the episode, to closely observe the world around you and play with metaphor, even if silly and absurd, as a sense of inspiration.
Credits: The Syncreate podcast is created and hosted by Melinda Rothouse, and produced at Record ATX studios with in collaboration Michael Osborne and 14th Street Studios in Austin, Texas. Syncreate logo design by Dreux Carpenter.
If you enjoy this episode and want to learn more about the creative process, you might also like our conversations in
Episode 6: Gratitude, Gentleness, and Generosity with Mayela Padilla Manasjan
Episode 83: Proprioception with C. Prudence Arceneaux
Episode 87: Dreams and Creativity with Musician, Poet & Psychotherapist Linus Streckfus
At Syncreate, we're here to support your creative endeavors. If you have an idea for a project or a new venture, and you’re not sure how to get it off the ground, please reach out to us. Our book, also called Syncreate, walks you through the stages of the creative process so you can take action on your creative goals. We also offer resources, creative process tools, and coaching, including a monthly coaching group, to help you bring your work to the world. You can find more information here on on our website, where you can also find all of our podcast episodes.
Find and connect with us on social media and YouTube under Syncreate, and we’re now on Patreon as well.
If you enjoy the show, please subscribe and leave us a review!
EPISODE-SPECIFIC HYPERLINKS
Brian’s Poetry and Podcast Episode with the Haight Ashbury Literary Journal
Brian’s Book: Shorelines: A Traveler Comes Home to the Tide Zone
(contact us at [email protected] for direct ordering info)
Brian’s Book: Shorelines: A Traveler Comes Home to the Tide Zone
(contact us at [email protected] for direct ordering info)
EPISODE TRANSCRIPT
Melinda: Creativity and community are absolutely vital in challenging times. Welcome to Syncreate, a show where we explore the intersections between creativity, psychology and spirituality. We believe everyone has the capacity to create. Our goal is to demystify the process and expand the boundaries of what it means to be creative. We talk with visionaries and change makers, and everyday creatives working in a wide range of fields and media - from the arts to science, technology and business.
We aim to illuminate the creative process from imagination to innovation and everything in between. I'm Melinda Rothouse, and I help individuals and organizations bring their dreams and visions to life. At Syncreate, we’re here to support your creative endeavors. So if you have an idea for a project or a new venture, whatever that might look like in whatever medium, and you're not quite sure how to get it off the ground, find us at syncreate.org.
Our book, also called Syncreate, walks you through the stages of the creative process so you can take action on your goals. We also offer resources, creative process tools and coaching to help you bring your work to the world, including a monthly creativity coaching group that happens on the fourth Sunday of each month. So you can find out more information on the website. We'd also love to hear from you. Love your feedback on the show. If you have ideas for topics or guests that we might bring on, drop us a line at [email protected].
My guest today is Brian Kirven. He's a poet, traveler and teacher living in Point Reyes Station, California, north of San Francisco on the coast. He's the author of Shorelines: A Traveler Comes Home to the Tide Zone. He's also served as a California poet in the schools, as well as the Poetry Inside Out program. He also hosted a radio show on KWMR in Point Reyes. His poetry has been featured in numerous literary journals, including California Quarterly, Inverness Almanac, The Kerf, West Marin Review, and most recently, the Haight Ashbury Literary Journal. Well, welcome, Brian, I'm so delighted to have you on the podcast today.
Brian: Very delighted to be here with you.
Melinda: Yes. I know. We’ve been talking about doing this for a while. So, glad to be able to have you on the show. And I was just out there visiting recently, seeing your beautiful neck of the woods. So that was a real treat. And just wanted to share a little bit about how we know each other. So, we met at a retreat several years ago with the poet David Whyte in Ireland, which was kind of both a literary retreat, and also did some hiking and visited some very magical places. And then we ended up traveling together and have kept in touch since that time. I think, you know, might even say we've acted as muses for each other to some extent or inspired each other's work.
So, it's been just great to connect with you over time. And as I mentioned in the introduction, you're a poet and you have a very strong connection to this area where you live, north of San Francisco--Point Reyes Station on the California coast--and your poetry really, I think, reflects this deep connection with nature and with a sense of place. And so, love to hear just a little bit more about kind of, what are the deep roots of inspiration for your work, your poetry and your writing?
Brian: Well, yeah, the natural surroundings are probably first and foremost for sparking poems and just writing in a journal. Yeah. I see the surroundings of the beauty and not necessarily beauty as mirror or any words that might come out artistically, and I see my relation within those surroundings as of it, not observing as much. Not purely observing, but the goal is to really feel viscerally connected to the land. The language of the land comes out, I feel, if I'm, you know, achieving that state of great achievement to become one with the soil.
Melinda: Yes. Beautiful. Yeah. There's a deep sense of interconnection, I think, in your work, and a sense of presence. And so, I know you spend a lot of time actually out in nature on the land hiking and exploring. Do you actually write when you're in nature or do you sort of experience it and then kind of come back and journal and write about it after the fact? Or maybe both?
Brian: Yes, both. Yeah. I feel like having the journal along with on outings is essential. And, oftentimes the seed will be planted then, and I think I'll need to put down, or for lack of a better word, record the through line, the in way, which is a phrase or a word or a theme, to get it started. If I'm not going to sit down and write it there on the spot, I at least have something that I can work with when I return to the desk or wherever I write (or in bed). You know, I feel pretty confident at that point that it really depends if I feel like the energy is fully there to lay it all out in one go. Or, I could hold that off and then, you know, trust in the energy to come later when I have more energy to give to it because I feel that poetry or any art needs 100% of your heart in the moment of the act of creating.
Melinda: Yes. Yes, definitely. And as we both know, energy can be finite at times. But I love what you kind of said about learning to trust the energy. And I think as creatives, part of our journey is about learning to trust ourselves and our own process and kind of what works for each of us. Which is not a one size fits all kind of thing.
Brian: Yes.
Melinda: Yeah. So how has that sort of evolved for you over the years? Did you start, like, writing poetry when you were really young, or was there a moment when you really started to kind of consider yourself a poet?
Brian: When I was teenager, I, you know, scribbled down punk rock songs. (Laughter) Screamed them in the garage with friends. Played instruments. And, so yeah. I mean, I guess that was poetry. Pretty atrocious at times. (Laughter) But it was attempting to find a rhythm, a rhyme or a rhythmic scheme. And I guess, yeah, through high school, I would write for a zine that we put out. There was one that was inspirational called Shrapnel. (Laughter) It was very punk based.
And we put one out called Personal Protest. And I would just more write creatively instead of verses. So I guess then I knew that I was more oriented toward language, words as art, and I studied sort of as a minor and eventually deciding on a major at San Francisco State after three or four other colleges down south. I was a Film Writing major, and a minor in Creative Writing. That's at San Francisco State. And then I took to the road in a traditional sort of experience, life and then write about it, thing.
Melinda: Yeah. So you took a solo road trip all throughout Mexico, Central and South America on a motorcycle back in the day. I'm sure that inspired a lot for you.
Brian: Yeah. I mean, it started with a circle around the United States, right, the day after I graduated basically. Took the same motorcycle that went on three or four long, open ended journeys. And I guess I wanted to build myself as a poet. (Laughter) And I guess that would be then, because it was kind of the first time I was really feeling alive. And free in my spirit. So, and then the details along the way, the concretes. You know, was kind of following Leaves of Grass and Walt Whitman, Open Road. And certain like, pages would pour out. Poems, small short poems (usually short) would come out, and yeah, I guess that's where poetry really became my main thing.
And I'd also say that I started to study after those trips with the folks from Naropa Institute. I went to a conference in a place that you and I were just at recently. You have led many retreats there: Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, pretty much central Mexico. I did that in the year 2000. Went to a conference called Luminous Details, led by Anne Waldman and her partner Andrew Schelling, at the time. And also, a lady from Bolinas, which is just down the road from here. Joanne Kyger and her partner Donald Guravich. They actually invited me to come have tea where we just did that retreat at Casa Werma.
And, anyways, yeah, just really felt a lot of inspiration on that trip. It was not only the time in getting education from them. It was also the travel to get down there was - it’s just my sweet spot is hitting the road, and just to make it down there and write. Feel like I was part of it right away.
Melinda: Yeah. I think that's something that you and I really share - this kind of love of travel and visiting new places, and just kind of immersing ourselves and allowing ourselves to be inspired, whether that's with poetry or photography or whatever it might be. Yeah.
Brian: Yeah, definitely. Movement.
Melinda: Movement. Yes. Yes. Definitely.
Brian: It's the rhythm of whatever you're trying to create, right?
Melinda: For sure.
Brian: This conference was… you know, at Naropa, it was kind of led by Allen Ginsberg and his secretary was there, and that one back in Connecticut, I think. And then also in Boulder, but there were great poets from all over the United States. And, you know, it was a lot about trusting your mind and Ginsberg's phrase, “Mind is shapely. Art is shapely.”
As well as, you know, the lineage, as Ezra Pound said, “The natural object is always the adequate symbol.” And also, he said, “The direct treatment of the thing or object kind of breaks away, demystifies the ability to get started with poetry.”You know, sometimes my writing is complex and / or complicated, and dense and thick and, unclear. (Laughter) But sometimes it's just a simple short poem, just lays itself right out there for you.
And the metaphor, it's right there. There's no real straining. And the act of putting it down as this statement, you know, suggests it’s trusting the natural ability of yourself in the act of putting it down. And it all will bring out - it’ll bring out what's needed, you know?
Melinda: Yes, definitely. So, speaking of that, that feels like a good segue. Do you have any of those type of short poems that you wanted to share today?
Brian: Yes. I have a few. I have some of those, but I think one that sort of resonated with other people, and I put it in my book Shorelines. It's called Residence. And it got published in The Inverness Almanac.
Melinda: Great.
Brian: After many tries with more complex poetry. (Laughter)
Melinda: Right. (Laughter)
Brian: Residence:
I have lived
over the sea,
in the forest,
by the creek.
And if you asked me
which is my favorite,
I would tell you
that depends on the moment,
on whether I’ve paved the path
to feeling free…
Melinda: Beautiful.
Brian: So sometimes, some aphoristic, you know, short piece will come along. It seems to be preferred. A lot of times.
Melinda: Yeah. In some ways, it's easier to take in on some level. Yeah. But, you know, there's such a sense of presence and you speak of freedom, of, you know, paving the path of freedom and also, you know, you mentioned kind of the poetry lineage. But also, I know that, you know, the folks at Naropa and Allen Ginsberg were also deeply influenced by the Buddhist teachings of Chögyam Trungpa and Boucher, and again, this emphasis on both direct experience, as you mentioned, and how do we communicate a direct experience like that? You know. And again, trusting ourselves that, if we're kind of sincere about it, that something will come through, right?
Brian: Yeah. Exactly. And I think I've gone through phases, you know. That early phase was more of trusting the first draft. Trungpa, said “First thought. Best thought.”
Melinda: Yes.
Brian: So, he said “writing is writing the mind.” In the presence of the moment. It's putting down what you're experiencing. And so not going back later, you know, doctoring it or fiddling around with it. But, so some of that still holds. But I've also seen how revision is essential as well. And you know, just accepting myself as well as not the necessarily crystal clear or diamond clear at times, with my first draft.
But trusting that, you know, the object is there. The essence of something, the skeleton of something is there, and then usually the themes or lines/phrases/whatever the language, will stay with me in that period and then it’ll, you know, urge me to create. Create in the poem. It's the pull of the poem that leads the way, I believe.
Melinda: So sometimes, maybe there's an image or a particular turn of phrase that sort of keeps calling to you in a way?
Brian: Yeah. Urging. Or a kernel that will get things started. I feel like poems can be like clouds. They start with the necessity of a grain. Some grist to, you know, grow. Grow into whatever shapes you want. But that grain is the content. And the form is secondary, in my view. The process of letting that thing emerge and form itself.
Melinda: Yeah. And that's sort of the magic of poetry in a way. I think, you know, this ability to express something that, again, with that felt sense that both the poet feels it and ideally the reader or the audience can experience it as well. That's sometimes more difficult to capture in prose or in ordinary language. But the language of poetry kind of brings it alive, that experience.
Brian: Yes.
Melinda: Yeah. So, do you have another poem you'd like to share on that sort of note?
Brian: Yeah. Let's see. There's lots of poems. I guess. Yeah. This one that came to me from a Qigong class I was in that particular day, was pretty incredible:
Heaven and Earth Sent
The deftest mesh
pulses lightly
in the morning breeze,
such layers of lacy dew and silk
leave the impression
of a soft shimmering silver chain,
receiving rising sun’s
brushstrokes of iridescence
in waves sweeping across web
warm air washing
along grassy slope,
across creek waters.
Today even the chi gung teacher’s tingsha bells
leave the faintest innermost touch
like distant brown creeper song.
Eternal song catcher necklace
fields and broadcasts creations,
no trace left of author ship.
Melinda: Yeah. Beautiful. I feel, it just really takes us into the moment. And I know you have spoken about this Qigong class that you take in the mornings, and it just, I felt transported, like I was just right there in kind of that ordinary magic of the morning and, yeah. Beautiful. Yeah.
Brian: That practice I started, I'd say, seven years ago or so. And it really is a poetic thing. There are names for different moves and the tai chi set that I practiced from there has a lot of names. So, yeah, I've written, a bunch now of those Qigong poems, I guess I call them.
Melinda: Beautiful.
Brian: I have another one, if you like.
Melinda: Please. Yeah. And just for those who don't know, maybe who aren't familiar, Qigong is a very meditative, kind of slow style of movement practice that comes out of the Chinese tradition. So, it's got elements of sort of Taoism and Buddhism, and it's also very connected to nature. And a lot of the movements allude to nature and natural forms as well.
Brown: Yeah. Well put. This is called Crossing Bridge:
Grouchy Great Blue Heron
on opposite creek bank
in gray morning drowsiness
as our human circle gathers,
avoiding eye contact,
ruffling of feathers
in the early shade,
bodies cool and huddled,
as we slowly warm up fluids,
open joints, expand wings
into the larger world.
Walk, slow stalking walk
modeled by Great Blue,
heart thawing open
along worn wooden planks
over willow watercourse
that speaks to a wider creek.
Tall skinny legs,
lubricated knees,
head up, back straight,
slightly lilted gait,
alternating feet feel air
like snail tentacle eyes,
toe prongs grip cross boards,
grounding within each
yin yang balanced
step by step,
in flow with all life.
To stand on arrival
at the other shore,
face up, arms open
to drink in the wider scene,
hawks and vultures circling,
followed by swallows
shore lined by tule reed,
soaking in the sun
rising from the southeast.
Take a cue from fishing Great Blue
warrior standing, slightly
swaying, staying centered,
holding own ground,
patiently waiting
for the feast of full presence.
Melinda: Beautiful. I love that, and it's interesting because in the - as I was listening to the poem, you know, you kind of set the scene of there’s the heron and there's the group practicing Qigong. But then as the poem continues, we sort of lose track of who is who and what is what. Are we the heron? Are we the person doing the Qigong? It all kind of blends together in this beautiful way.
Brian: Thank you. Yeah. That’s, I guess, the aim. Yeah. To feel whole.
Melinda: And connected.
Brian: And connected. Connected is key. Yeah.
Melinda: Yeah. Beautiful.
Brian: In relationship to everything else, as I mentioned earlier, of everything, you know, not an isolated observer or a scientific objective outside observer. Hopefully in a visceral oneness with everything.
Melinda: Definitely. Definitely. And I know that your father was a naturalist and a falconer specifically. Do you - you've spoken about him quite a bit - do you feel like, perhaps some of your poetic sensibility is connected to his love of nature and birds, falcons specifically?
Brian: Yeah. I've written a lot of poems with birds in them, and, if you'll indulge me, I'll just read a quote from a naturalist writer.
Melinda: Please. Yeah.
Brian: Who, I don't, you know, subscribe to all of this statement, but we can explore it anyways.
Melinda: Sure.
Brian: He says in a poetic prose piece, “Poets speak not in metaphor, as we are taught to say, but that in moments of excitement when we revert to primitive conditions of mind, the earth and all nature is alive and intelligent and feels as we feel.” That resonated a lot for me. Yeah. Feeling that feeling. It's a visceral, somatic feeling. Oneness with things. And, in terms of my father, the excitement part of it. He would always stop everything - “Look, a peregrine!” (Laughter) He was a peregrine specialist and advocator and field researcher, field biologist. Who kind of instilled the reverence for peregrine falcons. And they have come along in poems and even dreams.
Melinda: Sure. Sure. Yeah. But, yeah, it makes me think about that sense of stirring. Like, I remember the, you know, the hike that we took out at Point Reyes at the National Seashore and, you know, just, the power of that landscape. Right? The surf rolling in the cliffs and then, you know, the different birds and hawks kind of playing in the wind, and the elephant seals that we got to see, which was amazing.
And just that sense of almost being kind of like awestruck or, you know, sort of, wakened out of your sort of everyday way of being, right? And the joy of connecting with other living beings in that way and sort of, you know, you feeling like you're in their habitat. Part of their world almost.
Brian: Yeah. Yeah. And yeah, he definitely did instill that in me, that sense of awe and wonder, and excitement and invigoration with the power, the real power that's out there.
Melinda: Yeah. Beautiful.
Brian: Many outings with him.
Melinda: Yeah. I can imagine that had a big influence, I think. Same thing with my mom. You know, she was quite a naturalist also. And I think it inspired a love and appreciation of nature. How could it otherwise? Even though sometimes I resented it when I was a kid. But, you know. (Laughter) You know, later came to appreciate, right. Some of these outings. Right?
Brian: Yeah. Definitely true. (Laughter) When, I'll admit to you, he was a kind of dominant sort of person, and, know at all, I guess. In some sense. But he did, you know, like, yeah, he did instill that. At one time I remember saying, like, always wanting to push back against him. And, you know, his take on say, identifying birds. But, you know, when I look back in retrospect he once said, “Well, at least it's a start. (Laughter) Identifying not everything or counting them. It's not everything. I was more like, “Oh, I want to really just experience some full beauty”. But he was pointing that out as well. And, I don't want to let that go by without speaking that. It's just the rebellion of the child.
Melinda: Of course. Of course. (Laughter) It’s inevitable, right? On some level. I do want to mention - I mentioned this in the introduction - but you were recently, featured in the Haight Ashbury Literary Journal. I have a copy here. See if I can get it on the camera. So congratulations on that. And you were kind of featured in the in the center spread, kind of, up front and personal. So congratulations on that. I know you did a podcast sharing about some of those poems. So that's exciting. Yeah.
Brian: Thank you. Yeah. We're going to do a reading in San Francisco the eve of Independence Day.
Melinda: Okay, great.
Brian: July 3rd at Bird & Beckett Books.
Melinda: Okay, good. We'll be sure and put that in the show notes. Great. Great. Beautiful. So people might be able to find a copy of that, or I believe it's also available online I think I saw, right? People can find those works. And with the journal, right?
Brian: Yes. Their issues can be bought online.
Melinda: Okay. Perfect.
Brian: Haight Ashbury Literary Journal.
Melinda: Great. Good. Any, other poems you'd like to share at this point?
Brian: Well, it was mentioned, dreams - how they influence creations. Words.
Melinda: Yes. I recently did an episode with a friend of mine here, Linus Streckfus, about dreams and creativity, and how dream images can figure into our creative work. So you've experienced that as well, I understand?
Brian: Yeah. Yeah. Either it's the dream itself is a poem in itself. It's an act of writing it down in the morning. I mean, I've kept a journal for 30-some odd years, you know, but when I was in college, I had a dream journal. But only in the last, I don't know, ten, fifteen years have I really, mined it for literature for poetry.
Melinda: Okay. Yes. Yeah.
Brian: I have a couple. One is more of a prose poem. From way back in the millennium. (Laughter) Just before - yeah, kind of will show my, evolution, I suppose - just before joining the conference down in Foxborough, year 2000. Called Eve of Millennium Dream:
Here unconscious on sandy floor of remote Baja desert canyon, with caravan of couple dozen campers strewn along a wash in wait of tonight’s millennium party. I find myself lost in the reverie of my own aloneness, sweet aloneness, over the city of Angels, floating. So many people packed together in boxes, so close yet closed off from one another, doors shut in a city of steeples and antiquity, old downtown Los Angeles, or Oakland, as I fly over, musing upon this oddity of living, versing on being alone amidst so much cut-off company, over “lonely gray buildings,” in a rhythm reminiscent of beat poetry that burns deeply within the layering of words one after another with the music of momentum to bring me to momentary awareness of the multitudes as they sleep. Point of view of Jack Kerouac in cities, sweeping statements alive with excitement, yet aloof and wistful. I find myself reaching in the half-conscious morning recall for the right words to flow in a line, and only one comes out: CAPTURE, in capital letters, to fit in with this puzzle of sound and vision. Even here, I can feel the fear of metropolis wash subtly like a breeze through these narrow canyons, where we’ve been for five days, as we wait tonight for the turning of another thousand years, and for something new to happen.
Melinda: Beautiful.
Brian: So I saw the word capture, capital letters, in the dream. Sometimes words will come in dreams, right? Not always come into a poem, but recently I heard the phrase, “Use betterment”. (Laughter) I don't know how to actually work on - I'm working on how to work on that. (Laughter)
Melinda: Yeah. Yeah. You actually gave me an inspiration when I was there: “The last gasp of the ass.” I have to - I haven't used it in anything yet, but it's such a good one. (Laughter) But, yeah, sometimes these things come and we don't necessarily know. Like, you know, they sort of come bubbling up from the dream world, the unconscious. We don't know exactly what they mean, but we sort of find our way into it. And that poem you just shared, you know, I really felt that tension, I guess, or that juxtaposition between that sense of isolation of living in an urban area or almost like, flying above an urban area and seeing all the people in their separate little boxes and then, you know, then being out at this festival or celebration, whatever it was, and kind of, again, that -
Brian: I felt like I was actually embodying Jack Kerouac. (Laughter)
Melinda: Love it.
Brian: That was so influential for me. All the motorcycle journeys. And then to meet up with Anne just days later… Anne Waldman, down at Neropa or Casa Werma. And Pátzcuaro, I was dreaming with Allen Ginsberg and, you know, Joanne Kyger - even Anne - I mean, there was a period where they would come up in dreams a lot. But then, I guess, you know, the last couple decades, I tried to stay rooted, I guess, or more of a stay in place poetry. Getting to know - being more embodied. They were called School of Disembodied Poetics. (Laughter) So I took that literal - overly literally. But I guess what I'm saying is, like, just later in, like, finding my body grounded, my mind was off gallivanting around and whimsy. But that's been a journey to ground back in the body.
Melinda: Yeah. There’s something to be said for grounding deeply in a place and becoming so intimately familiar with a particular place and landscape and connecting on that deep level.
Brian: Yeah. And I think Gary Snyder would be the biggest influence in that sense.
Melinda: Yes. Yes. Definitely.
Brian: He also had his period of travel and settling so deeply in San Juan Ridge. Yeah.
Melinda: Beautiful.
Brian: I have one dream that I would be remiss in not -
Melinda: Please.
Melinda: A dream poem. And we can relate to it afterwards: Nap After Reading a Novel Set During the Electrification of Ireland:
The wind whips the sheet
shading me from a scorching sun.
I drift in and out of consciousness,
flips of the switch.
And reading the book, This Is Happiness by Niall Williams. And, yeah, just harkening back to time we had. Just laying on my deck reading that novel and then dozed off. And those are the moments where the subconscious and conscious mind meet, right? And, creativity is most fertile.
Melinda: Exactly. Exactly. Yeah. When we're relaxed, we're falling into sleep or just coming out of sleep. That can be a very potent time. Yeah. Kind of a delicious time too.
Brian: Yeah. I don’t know if you get a lot of songs that way or -
Melinda: Yeah, I have been. As I mentioned in this prior podcast episode, that's where I've been receiving most of my inspiration for song ideas - is in the time either before, during or just after sleep. So then the key is to actually record them in some way, you know. On the voice memo, on the phone or write down some lyrics. And then, as you have described with some of your poetry, then working it and developing it and shaping it after that initial inspiration.
Brian: Yeah. It's beautiful.
Melinda: Yeah. Well, the time is flying by, as it often does. I want to also mention, you know, you have worked as a Poet in the Schools in California and with a program called Poetry Inside Out. And I'm curious, when you work with students on poetry - and maybe this could lead actually into our Pro Tip, which we - I try to end each episode with a little Pro Tip, something people can try on their own - but what's something that has worked well for you when working with students, and kind of introducing them to poetry and poetry writing, just to kind of get ideas flowing?
Brian: What comes to mind is an activity that really worked well with younger grammar school kids. And it came to me just out of a lot of walks in the woods or on trails and noticing things with the senses. Using all the senses, but mainly vision and sound. And, instead of like, as I mentioned earlier, about identification and making an error, and castigating yourself, I turned those into what I called beautiful mistakes.
Melinda: Love that.
Brian: So, if I had the privilege of walking with the kids to an outside space or to the garden - I did that when we were in school - it just comes out automatically. So every kid, you know, will have some kind of metaphor, a simile. I mean, we come out of our mother's saying, “That looks like…”, you know. Or we look at a younger sibling in our mother's arms and like, “Looks like a hot dog.” (Laughter) Or we want to say what things are like.
Melinda: That's how we kind of learn, is like comparing unknown things to things that we know, right?
Brian: Yes. So that process of putting down as many beautiful mistakes as, yeah, what you see right away, it’ll become apparent. There are very many of them - I guess sound is one of the most aspiring senses. Oh, what would be a good one for me right now? (Laughter) I'd say, you would say the thing that you thought it was, and then for - so the cackling preschool teacher across the slope, for gobbling turkeys up the hill. (Laughter)
Melinda: Nice.
Brian: It sounds that like, they would make you think of one thing first. And that other - like, the growling of the stomach or mooing cow.
Melinda: Yeah. Beautiful. I love that.
Brian: It just facilitates itself, and the kids get going at any age actually.
Melinda: Yeah. And it's fun and playful, and kind of humorous as well.
Brian: Yeah. So, I inspire - encourage - anyone, you know, if they are stuck on what to write about, just walk outside or start with what you're sensing and then, “Oh, I know. That sounds like that.” And maybe it'll re-register and, “No, it's not that. But I can make a little beautiful two line poem. A beautiful mistake.”
Melinda: Beautiful mistake. I like that reframe. Well, Brian, thank you so much for coming on the show today. I so appreciate it. And if people want to learn more about you and your work and what you're up to, what's a good way for them to find you?
Brian: I've never really got a handle on the promotion at all. (Laughter) I mean, I suppose you could Google me and find podcasts and certain readings. A television show that happened. The Marin County Library System. That's another stage. (Laughter)
Melinda: Yeah. Right. I know. It’s something that we creatives often struggle with. Like, how do we, you know - first we make our work and then how do we try to get it out there into the world?
Brian: I did radio shows for 17 years. Presenting other people's work. And now I will get on a show in town. We have a wonderful public radio station here in Point Reyes Station. And every once in a while do a poetry show. But I suppose, give my email out.
Melinda: Sure. I'll share some links in the show notes as well.
Brian: As I do think I have archives of things. And my book is called Shorelines: A Traveler Comes Home to the Tide Zone.
Melinda: Yes. And that's available online as well. Yeah.
Brian: It’s running out. (Laughter)
Melinda: It’s running out. Ooh. Maybe time to publish some more.
Brian: Personal requests.
Melinda: Alright. Okay. So people should get in touch with you directly for that.
Brian: And hopefully a couple more projects will come out in the world. Not too long from now.
Melinda: Beautiful.
Brian: But thank you. Thank you, Melinda. So much.
Melinda: Absolutely. It's my pleasure. Yeah.
Brian: And thanks for your inspiration along our journey of our friendship.
Melinda: Of course. May it continue. Yeah. Thank you so much.
Melinda: Find and connect with us on YouTube and social media under @syncreate. If you enjoy the show, please subscribe and leave us a review. And again, we'd love to hear from you. So reach out to us anytime at [email protected]. Love to hear your thoughts on the show, possible guests and topics. So, drop us a line.
We're recording today at Record ATX Studios in Austin, with Brian joining us from Northern California. The podcast is produced in collaboration with Mike Osborne at 14th Street Studios. Thanks so much for being with us, and see you next time.
We aim to illuminate the creative process from imagination to innovation and everything in between. I'm Melinda Rothouse, and I help individuals and organizations bring their dreams and visions to life. At Syncreate, we’re here to support your creative endeavors. So if you have an idea for a project or a new venture, whatever that might look like in whatever medium, and you're not quite sure how to get it off the ground, find us at syncreate.org.
Our book, also called Syncreate, walks you through the stages of the creative process so you can take action on your goals. We also offer resources, creative process tools and coaching to help you bring your work to the world, including a monthly creativity coaching group that happens on the fourth Sunday of each month. So you can find out more information on the website. We'd also love to hear from you. Love your feedback on the show. If you have ideas for topics or guests that we might bring on, drop us a line at [email protected].
My guest today is Brian Kirven. He's a poet, traveler and teacher living in Point Reyes Station, California, north of San Francisco on the coast. He's the author of Shorelines: A Traveler Comes Home to the Tide Zone. He's also served as a California poet in the schools, as well as the Poetry Inside Out program. He also hosted a radio show on KWMR in Point Reyes. His poetry has been featured in numerous literary journals, including California Quarterly, Inverness Almanac, The Kerf, West Marin Review, and most recently, the Haight Ashbury Literary Journal. Well, welcome, Brian, I'm so delighted to have you on the podcast today.
Brian: Very delighted to be here with you.
Melinda: Yes. I know. We’ve been talking about doing this for a while. So, glad to be able to have you on the show. And I was just out there visiting recently, seeing your beautiful neck of the woods. So that was a real treat. And just wanted to share a little bit about how we know each other. So, we met at a retreat several years ago with the poet David Whyte in Ireland, which was kind of both a literary retreat, and also did some hiking and visited some very magical places. And then we ended up traveling together and have kept in touch since that time. I think, you know, might even say we've acted as muses for each other to some extent or inspired each other's work.
So, it's been just great to connect with you over time. And as I mentioned in the introduction, you're a poet and you have a very strong connection to this area where you live, north of San Francisco--Point Reyes Station on the California coast--and your poetry really, I think, reflects this deep connection with nature and with a sense of place. And so, love to hear just a little bit more about kind of, what are the deep roots of inspiration for your work, your poetry and your writing?
Brian: Well, yeah, the natural surroundings are probably first and foremost for sparking poems and just writing in a journal. Yeah. I see the surroundings of the beauty and not necessarily beauty as mirror or any words that might come out artistically, and I see my relation within those surroundings as of it, not observing as much. Not purely observing, but the goal is to really feel viscerally connected to the land. The language of the land comes out, I feel, if I'm, you know, achieving that state of great achievement to become one with the soil.
Melinda: Yes. Beautiful. Yeah. There's a deep sense of interconnection, I think, in your work, and a sense of presence. And so, I know you spend a lot of time actually out in nature on the land hiking and exploring. Do you actually write when you're in nature or do you sort of experience it and then kind of come back and journal and write about it after the fact? Or maybe both?
Brian: Yes, both. Yeah. I feel like having the journal along with on outings is essential. And, oftentimes the seed will be planted then, and I think I'll need to put down, or for lack of a better word, record the through line, the in way, which is a phrase or a word or a theme, to get it started. If I'm not going to sit down and write it there on the spot, I at least have something that I can work with when I return to the desk or wherever I write (or in bed). You know, I feel pretty confident at that point that it really depends if I feel like the energy is fully there to lay it all out in one go. Or, I could hold that off and then, you know, trust in the energy to come later when I have more energy to give to it because I feel that poetry or any art needs 100% of your heart in the moment of the act of creating.
Melinda: Yes. Yes, definitely. And as we both know, energy can be finite at times. But I love what you kind of said about learning to trust the energy. And I think as creatives, part of our journey is about learning to trust ourselves and our own process and kind of what works for each of us. Which is not a one size fits all kind of thing.
Brian: Yes.
Melinda: Yeah. So how has that sort of evolved for you over the years? Did you start, like, writing poetry when you were really young, or was there a moment when you really started to kind of consider yourself a poet?
Brian: When I was teenager, I, you know, scribbled down punk rock songs. (Laughter) Screamed them in the garage with friends. Played instruments. And, so yeah. I mean, I guess that was poetry. Pretty atrocious at times. (Laughter) But it was attempting to find a rhythm, a rhyme or a rhythmic scheme. And I guess, yeah, through high school, I would write for a zine that we put out. There was one that was inspirational called Shrapnel. (Laughter) It was very punk based.
And we put one out called Personal Protest. And I would just more write creatively instead of verses. So I guess then I knew that I was more oriented toward language, words as art, and I studied sort of as a minor and eventually deciding on a major at San Francisco State after three or four other colleges down south. I was a Film Writing major, and a minor in Creative Writing. That's at San Francisco State. And then I took to the road in a traditional sort of experience, life and then write about it, thing.
Melinda: Yeah. So you took a solo road trip all throughout Mexico, Central and South America on a motorcycle back in the day. I'm sure that inspired a lot for you.
Brian: Yeah. I mean, it started with a circle around the United States, right, the day after I graduated basically. Took the same motorcycle that went on three or four long, open ended journeys. And I guess I wanted to build myself as a poet. (Laughter) And I guess that would be then, because it was kind of the first time I was really feeling alive. And free in my spirit. So, and then the details along the way, the concretes. You know, was kind of following Leaves of Grass and Walt Whitman, Open Road. And certain like, pages would pour out. Poems, small short poems (usually short) would come out, and yeah, I guess that's where poetry really became my main thing.
And I'd also say that I started to study after those trips with the folks from Naropa Institute. I went to a conference in a place that you and I were just at recently. You have led many retreats there: Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, pretty much central Mexico. I did that in the year 2000. Went to a conference called Luminous Details, led by Anne Waldman and her partner Andrew Schelling, at the time. And also, a lady from Bolinas, which is just down the road from here. Joanne Kyger and her partner Donald Guravich. They actually invited me to come have tea where we just did that retreat at Casa Werma.
And, anyways, yeah, just really felt a lot of inspiration on that trip. It was not only the time in getting education from them. It was also the travel to get down there was - it’s just my sweet spot is hitting the road, and just to make it down there and write. Feel like I was part of it right away.
Melinda: Yeah. I think that's something that you and I really share - this kind of love of travel and visiting new places, and just kind of immersing ourselves and allowing ourselves to be inspired, whether that's with poetry or photography or whatever it might be. Yeah.
Brian: Yeah, definitely. Movement.
Melinda: Movement. Yes. Yes. Definitely.
Brian: It's the rhythm of whatever you're trying to create, right?
Melinda: For sure.
Brian: This conference was… you know, at Naropa, it was kind of led by Allen Ginsberg and his secretary was there, and that one back in Connecticut, I think. And then also in Boulder, but there were great poets from all over the United States. And, you know, it was a lot about trusting your mind and Ginsberg's phrase, “Mind is shapely. Art is shapely.”
As well as, you know, the lineage, as Ezra Pound said, “The natural object is always the adequate symbol.” And also, he said, “The direct treatment of the thing or object kind of breaks away, demystifies the ability to get started with poetry.”You know, sometimes my writing is complex and / or complicated, and dense and thick and, unclear. (Laughter) But sometimes it's just a simple short poem, just lays itself right out there for you.
And the metaphor, it's right there. There's no real straining. And the act of putting it down as this statement, you know, suggests it’s trusting the natural ability of yourself in the act of putting it down. And it all will bring out - it’ll bring out what's needed, you know?
Melinda: Yes, definitely. So, speaking of that, that feels like a good segue. Do you have any of those type of short poems that you wanted to share today?
Brian: Yes. I have a few. I have some of those, but I think one that sort of resonated with other people, and I put it in my book Shorelines. It's called Residence. And it got published in The Inverness Almanac.
Melinda: Great.
Brian: After many tries with more complex poetry. (Laughter)
Melinda: Right. (Laughter)
Brian: Residence:
I have lived
over the sea,
in the forest,
by the creek.
And if you asked me
which is my favorite,
I would tell you
that depends on the moment,
on whether I’ve paved the path
to feeling free…
Melinda: Beautiful.
Brian: So sometimes, some aphoristic, you know, short piece will come along. It seems to be preferred. A lot of times.
Melinda: Yeah. In some ways, it's easier to take in on some level. Yeah. But, you know, there's such a sense of presence and you speak of freedom, of, you know, paving the path of freedom and also, you know, you mentioned kind of the poetry lineage. But also, I know that, you know, the folks at Naropa and Allen Ginsberg were also deeply influenced by the Buddhist teachings of Chögyam Trungpa and Boucher, and again, this emphasis on both direct experience, as you mentioned, and how do we communicate a direct experience like that? You know. And again, trusting ourselves that, if we're kind of sincere about it, that something will come through, right?
Brian: Yeah. Exactly. And I think I've gone through phases, you know. That early phase was more of trusting the first draft. Trungpa, said “First thought. Best thought.”
Melinda: Yes.
Brian: So, he said “writing is writing the mind.” In the presence of the moment. It's putting down what you're experiencing. And so not going back later, you know, doctoring it or fiddling around with it. But, so some of that still holds. But I've also seen how revision is essential as well. And you know, just accepting myself as well as not the necessarily crystal clear or diamond clear at times, with my first draft.
But trusting that, you know, the object is there. The essence of something, the skeleton of something is there, and then usually the themes or lines/phrases/whatever the language, will stay with me in that period and then it’ll, you know, urge me to create. Create in the poem. It's the pull of the poem that leads the way, I believe.
Melinda: So sometimes, maybe there's an image or a particular turn of phrase that sort of keeps calling to you in a way?
Brian: Yeah. Urging. Or a kernel that will get things started. I feel like poems can be like clouds. They start with the necessity of a grain. Some grist to, you know, grow. Grow into whatever shapes you want. But that grain is the content. And the form is secondary, in my view. The process of letting that thing emerge and form itself.
Melinda: Yeah. And that's sort of the magic of poetry in a way. I think, you know, this ability to express something that, again, with that felt sense that both the poet feels it and ideally the reader or the audience can experience it as well. That's sometimes more difficult to capture in prose or in ordinary language. But the language of poetry kind of brings it alive, that experience.
Brian: Yes.
Melinda: Yeah. So, do you have another poem you'd like to share on that sort of note?
Brian: Yeah. Let's see. There's lots of poems. I guess. Yeah. This one that came to me from a Qigong class I was in that particular day, was pretty incredible:
Heaven and Earth Sent
The deftest mesh
pulses lightly
in the morning breeze,
such layers of lacy dew and silk
leave the impression
of a soft shimmering silver chain,
receiving rising sun’s
brushstrokes of iridescence
in waves sweeping across web
warm air washing
along grassy slope,
across creek waters.
Today even the chi gung teacher’s tingsha bells
leave the faintest innermost touch
like distant brown creeper song.
Eternal song catcher necklace
fields and broadcasts creations,
no trace left of author ship.
Melinda: Yeah. Beautiful. I feel, it just really takes us into the moment. And I know you have spoken about this Qigong class that you take in the mornings, and it just, I felt transported, like I was just right there in kind of that ordinary magic of the morning and, yeah. Beautiful. Yeah.
Brian: That practice I started, I'd say, seven years ago or so. And it really is a poetic thing. There are names for different moves and the tai chi set that I practiced from there has a lot of names. So, yeah, I've written, a bunch now of those Qigong poems, I guess I call them.
Melinda: Beautiful.
Brian: I have another one, if you like.
Melinda: Please. Yeah. And just for those who don't know, maybe who aren't familiar, Qigong is a very meditative, kind of slow style of movement practice that comes out of the Chinese tradition. So, it's got elements of sort of Taoism and Buddhism, and it's also very connected to nature. And a lot of the movements allude to nature and natural forms as well.
Brown: Yeah. Well put. This is called Crossing Bridge:
Grouchy Great Blue Heron
on opposite creek bank
in gray morning drowsiness
as our human circle gathers,
avoiding eye contact,
ruffling of feathers
in the early shade,
bodies cool and huddled,
as we slowly warm up fluids,
open joints, expand wings
into the larger world.
Walk, slow stalking walk
modeled by Great Blue,
heart thawing open
along worn wooden planks
over willow watercourse
that speaks to a wider creek.
Tall skinny legs,
lubricated knees,
head up, back straight,
slightly lilted gait,
alternating feet feel air
like snail tentacle eyes,
toe prongs grip cross boards,
grounding within each
yin yang balanced
step by step,
in flow with all life.
To stand on arrival
at the other shore,
face up, arms open
to drink in the wider scene,
hawks and vultures circling,
followed by swallows
shore lined by tule reed,
soaking in the sun
rising from the southeast.
Take a cue from fishing Great Blue
warrior standing, slightly
swaying, staying centered,
holding own ground,
patiently waiting
for the feast of full presence.
Melinda: Beautiful. I love that, and it's interesting because in the - as I was listening to the poem, you know, you kind of set the scene of there’s the heron and there's the group practicing Qigong. But then as the poem continues, we sort of lose track of who is who and what is what. Are we the heron? Are we the person doing the Qigong? It all kind of blends together in this beautiful way.
Brian: Thank you. Yeah. That’s, I guess, the aim. Yeah. To feel whole.
Melinda: And connected.
Brian: And connected. Connected is key. Yeah.
Melinda: Yeah. Beautiful.
Brian: In relationship to everything else, as I mentioned earlier, of everything, you know, not an isolated observer or a scientific objective outside observer. Hopefully in a visceral oneness with everything.
Melinda: Definitely. Definitely. And I know that your father was a naturalist and a falconer specifically. Do you - you've spoken about him quite a bit - do you feel like, perhaps some of your poetic sensibility is connected to his love of nature and birds, falcons specifically?
Brian: Yeah. I've written a lot of poems with birds in them, and, if you'll indulge me, I'll just read a quote from a naturalist writer.
Melinda: Please. Yeah.
Brian: Who, I don't, you know, subscribe to all of this statement, but we can explore it anyways.
Melinda: Sure.
Brian: He says in a poetic prose piece, “Poets speak not in metaphor, as we are taught to say, but that in moments of excitement when we revert to primitive conditions of mind, the earth and all nature is alive and intelligent and feels as we feel.” That resonated a lot for me. Yeah. Feeling that feeling. It's a visceral, somatic feeling. Oneness with things. And, in terms of my father, the excitement part of it. He would always stop everything - “Look, a peregrine!” (Laughter) He was a peregrine specialist and advocator and field researcher, field biologist. Who kind of instilled the reverence for peregrine falcons. And they have come along in poems and even dreams.
Melinda: Sure. Sure. Yeah. But, yeah, it makes me think about that sense of stirring. Like, I remember the, you know, the hike that we took out at Point Reyes at the National Seashore and, you know, just, the power of that landscape. Right? The surf rolling in the cliffs and then, you know, the different birds and hawks kind of playing in the wind, and the elephant seals that we got to see, which was amazing.
And just that sense of almost being kind of like awestruck or, you know, sort of, wakened out of your sort of everyday way of being, right? And the joy of connecting with other living beings in that way and sort of, you know, you feeling like you're in their habitat. Part of their world almost.
Brian: Yeah. Yeah. And yeah, he definitely did instill that in me, that sense of awe and wonder, and excitement and invigoration with the power, the real power that's out there.
Melinda: Yeah. Beautiful.
Brian: Many outings with him.
Melinda: Yeah. I can imagine that had a big influence, I think. Same thing with my mom. You know, she was quite a naturalist also. And I think it inspired a love and appreciation of nature. How could it otherwise? Even though sometimes I resented it when I was a kid. But, you know. (Laughter) You know, later came to appreciate, right. Some of these outings. Right?
Brian: Yeah. Definitely true. (Laughter) When, I'll admit to you, he was a kind of dominant sort of person, and, know at all, I guess. In some sense. But he did, you know, like, yeah, he did instill that. At one time I remember saying, like, always wanting to push back against him. And, you know, his take on say, identifying birds. But, you know, when I look back in retrospect he once said, “Well, at least it's a start. (Laughter) Identifying not everything or counting them. It's not everything. I was more like, “Oh, I want to really just experience some full beauty”. But he was pointing that out as well. And, I don't want to let that go by without speaking that. It's just the rebellion of the child.
Melinda: Of course. Of course. (Laughter) It’s inevitable, right? On some level. I do want to mention - I mentioned this in the introduction - but you were recently, featured in the Haight Ashbury Literary Journal. I have a copy here. See if I can get it on the camera. So congratulations on that. And you were kind of featured in the in the center spread, kind of, up front and personal. So congratulations on that. I know you did a podcast sharing about some of those poems. So that's exciting. Yeah.
Brian: Thank you. Yeah. We're going to do a reading in San Francisco the eve of Independence Day.
Melinda: Okay, great.
Brian: July 3rd at Bird & Beckett Books.
Melinda: Okay, good. We'll be sure and put that in the show notes. Great. Great. Beautiful. So people might be able to find a copy of that, or I believe it's also available online I think I saw, right? People can find those works. And with the journal, right?
Brian: Yes. Their issues can be bought online.
Melinda: Okay. Perfect.
Brian: Haight Ashbury Literary Journal.
Melinda: Great. Good. Any, other poems you'd like to share at this point?
Brian: Well, it was mentioned, dreams - how they influence creations. Words.
Melinda: Yes. I recently did an episode with a friend of mine here, Linus Streckfus, about dreams and creativity, and how dream images can figure into our creative work. So you've experienced that as well, I understand?
Brian: Yeah. Yeah. Either it's the dream itself is a poem in itself. It's an act of writing it down in the morning. I mean, I've kept a journal for 30-some odd years, you know, but when I was in college, I had a dream journal. But only in the last, I don't know, ten, fifteen years have I really, mined it for literature for poetry.
Melinda: Okay. Yes. Yeah.
Brian: I have a couple. One is more of a prose poem. From way back in the millennium. (Laughter) Just before - yeah, kind of will show my, evolution, I suppose - just before joining the conference down in Foxborough, year 2000. Called Eve of Millennium Dream:
Here unconscious on sandy floor of remote Baja desert canyon, with caravan of couple dozen campers strewn along a wash in wait of tonight’s millennium party. I find myself lost in the reverie of my own aloneness, sweet aloneness, over the city of Angels, floating. So many people packed together in boxes, so close yet closed off from one another, doors shut in a city of steeples and antiquity, old downtown Los Angeles, or Oakland, as I fly over, musing upon this oddity of living, versing on being alone amidst so much cut-off company, over “lonely gray buildings,” in a rhythm reminiscent of beat poetry that burns deeply within the layering of words one after another with the music of momentum to bring me to momentary awareness of the multitudes as they sleep. Point of view of Jack Kerouac in cities, sweeping statements alive with excitement, yet aloof and wistful. I find myself reaching in the half-conscious morning recall for the right words to flow in a line, and only one comes out: CAPTURE, in capital letters, to fit in with this puzzle of sound and vision. Even here, I can feel the fear of metropolis wash subtly like a breeze through these narrow canyons, where we’ve been for five days, as we wait tonight for the turning of another thousand years, and for something new to happen.
Melinda: Beautiful.
Brian: So I saw the word capture, capital letters, in the dream. Sometimes words will come in dreams, right? Not always come into a poem, but recently I heard the phrase, “Use betterment”. (Laughter) I don't know how to actually work on - I'm working on how to work on that. (Laughter)
Melinda: Yeah. Yeah. You actually gave me an inspiration when I was there: “The last gasp of the ass.” I have to - I haven't used it in anything yet, but it's such a good one. (Laughter) But, yeah, sometimes these things come and we don't necessarily know. Like, you know, they sort of come bubbling up from the dream world, the unconscious. We don't know exactly what they mean, but we sort of find our way into it. And that poem you just shared, you know, I really felt that tension, I guess, or that juxtaposition between that sense of isolation of living in an urban area or almost like, flying above an urban area and seeing all the people in their separate little boxes and then, you know, then being out at this festival or celebration, whatever it was, and kind of, again, that -
Brian: I felt like I was actually embodying Jack Kerouac. (Laughter)
Melinda: Love it.
Brian: That was so influential for me. All the motorcycle journeys. And then to meet up with Anne just days later… Anne Waldman, down at Neropa or Casa Werma. And Pátzcuaro, I was dreaming with Allen Ginsberg and, you know, Joanne Kyger - even Anne - I mean, there was a period where they would come up in dreams a lot. But then, I guess, you know, the last couple decades, I tried to stay rooted, I guess, or more of a stay in place poetry. Getting to know - being more embodied. They were called School of Disembodied Poetics. (Laughter) So I took that literal - overly literally. But I guess what I'm saying is, like, just later in, like, finding my body grounded, my mind was off gallivanting around and whimsy. But that's been a journey to ground back in the body.
Melinda: Yeah. There’s something to be said for grounding deeply in a place and becoming so intimately familiar with a particular place and landscape and connecting on that deep level.
Brian: Yeah. And I think Gary Snyder would be the biggest influence in that sense.
Melinda: Yes. Yes. Definitely.
Brian: He also had his period of travel and settling so deeply in San Juan Ridge. Yeah.
Melinda: Beautiful.
Brian: I have one dream that I would be remiss in not -
Melinda: Please.
Melinda: A dream poem. And we can relate to it afterwards: Nap After Reading a Novel Set During the Electrification of Ireland:
The wind whips the sheet
shading me from a scorching sun.
I drift in and out of consciousness,
flips of the switch.
And reading the book, This Is Happiness by Niall Williams. And, yeah, just harkening back to time we had. Just laying on my deck reading that novel and then dozed off. And those are the moments where the subconscious and conscious mind meet, right? And, creativity is most fertile.
Melinda: Exactly. Exactly. Yeah. When we're relaxed, we're falling into sleep or just coming out of sleep. That can be a very potent time. Yeah. Kind of a delicious time too.
Brian: Yeah. I don’t know if you get a lot of songs that way or -
Melinda: Yeah, I have been. As I mentioned in this prior podcast episode, that's where I've been receiving most of my inspiration for song ideas - is in the time either before, during or just after sleep. So then the key is to actually record them in some way, you know. On the voice memo, on the phone or write down some lyrics. And then, as you have described with some of your poetry, then working it and developing it and shaping it after that initial inspiration.
Brian: Yeah. It's beautiful.
Melinda: Yeah. Well, the time is flying by, as it often does. I want to also mention, you know, you have worked as a Poet in the Schools in California and with a program called Poetry Inside Out. And I'm curious, when you work with students on poetry - and maybe this could lead actually into our Pro Tip, which we - I try to end each episode with a little Pro Tip, something people can try on their own - but what's something that has worked well for you when working with students, and kind of introducing them to poetry and poetry writing, just to kind of get ideas flowing?
Brian: What comes to mind is an activity that really worked well with younger grammar school kids. And it came to me just out of a lot of walks in the woods or on trails and noticing things with the senses. Using all the senses, but mainly vision and sound. And, instead of like, as I mentioned earlier, about identification and making an error, and castigating yourself, I turned those into what I called beautiful mistakes.
Melinda: Love that.
Brian: So, if I had the privilege of walking with the kids to an outside space or to the garden - I did that when we were in school - it just comes out automatically. So every kid, you know, will have some kind of metaphor, a simile. I mean, we come out of our mother's saying, “That looks like…”, you know. Or we look at a younger sibling in our mother's arms and like, “Looks like a hot dog.” (Laughter) Or we want to say what things are like.
Melinda: That's how we kind of learn, is like comparing unknown things to things that we know, right?
Brian: Yes. So that process of putting down as many beautiful mistakes as, yeah, what you see right away, it’ll become apparent. There are very many of them - I guess sound is one of the most aspiring senses. Oh, what would be a good one for me right now? (Laughter) I'd say, you would say the thing that you thought it was, and then for - so the cackling preschool teacher across the slope, for gobbling turkeys up the hill. (Laughter)
Melinda: Nice.
Brian: It sounds that like, they would make you think of one thing first. And that other - like, the growling of the stomach or mooing cow.
Melinda: Yeah. Beautiful. I love that.
Brian: It just facilitates itself, and the kids get going at any age actually.
Melinda: Yeah. And it's fun and playful, and kind of humorous as well.
Brian: Yeah. So, I inspire - encourage - anyone, you know, if they are stuck on what to write about, just walk outside or start with what you're sensing and then, “Oh, I know. That sounds like that.” And maybe it'll re-register and, “No, it's not that. But I can make a little beautiful two line poem. A beautiful mistake.”
Melinda: Beautiful mistake. I like that reframe. Well, Brian, thank you so much for coming on the show today. I so appreciate it. And if people want to learn more about you and your work and what you're up to, what's a good way for them to find you?
Brian: I've never really got a handle on the promotion at all. (Laughter) I mean, I suppose you could Google me and find podcasts and certain readings. A television show that happened. The Marin County Library System. That's another stage. (Laughter)
Melinda: Yeah. Right. I know. It’s something that we creatives often struggle with. Like, how do we, you know - first we make our work and then how do we try to get it out there into the world?
Brian: I did radio shows for 17 years. Presenting other people's work. And now I will get on a show in town. We have a wonderful public radio station here in Point Reyes Station. And every once in a while do a poetry show. But I suppose, give my email out.
Melinda: Sure. I'll share some links in the show notes as well.
Brian: As I do think I have archives of things. And my book is called Shorelines: A Traveler Comes Home to the Tide Zone.
Melinda: Yes. And that's available online as well. Yeah.
Brian: It’s running out. (Laughter)
Melinda: It’s running out. Ooh. Maybe time to publish some more.
Brian: Personal requests.
Melinda: Alright. Okay. So people should get in touch with you directly for that.
Brian: And hopefully a couple more projects will come out in the world. Not too long from now.
Melinda: Beautiful.
Brian: But thank you. Thank you, Melinda. So much.
Melinda: Absolutely. It's my pleasure. Yeah.
Brian: And thanks for your inspiration along our journey of our friendship.
Melinda: Of course. May it continue. Yeah. Thank you so much.
Melinda: Find and connect with us on YouTube and social media under @syncreate. If you enjoy the show, please subscribe and leave us a review. And again, we'd love to hear from you. So reach out to us anytime at [email protected]. Love to hear your thoughts on the show, possible guests and topics. So, drop us a line.
We're recording today at Record ATX Studios in Austin, with Brian joining us from Northern California. The podcast is produced in collaboration with Mike Osborne at 14th Street Studios. Thanks so much for being with us, and see you next time.
