Stan Rogal lives and writes in Toronto. His work has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies in Canada, the US, Europe, and most recently, Asia. The author of several books, including 12 poetry and several chapbooks, he was also a master bowler and champion Legion dart player in a former life.
You can read The Captive Heart in the October 2024 issue.
Would you like to tell us a little bit more about your poem? For instance, how or why you wrote it, or perhaps provide some extra context?
I wanted to explore some of the intricacies that make up a relationship, the joy, the pain, the playfulness, and so on, in a casual, somewhat humourous manner.
Why was the poetic form the best fit for this particular piece of work?
It’s easier to break the narrative with poetry, to evoke rather than describe or explain.
Do you have a collection of poetry or even a single poem that acts as a touchstone?
I enjoy reading anthologies. I was most recently inspired by the Norton Anthology of Postmodern American Poetry. I like being able to flip pages and land on something, someone, at random, experience different voices, different styles, maybe be surprised.
If you didn’t write poetry, how do you think you might access the same fulfillments that poetry offers in your life?
Someone said that the only two pursuits that offer any real personal satisfaction and excitement are poetry and crime, and I was too middle-class to choose crime.
How do you revise your work?
Painstakingly and alone.
As a poet, what does creative success or achievement look like for you?
Publish or perish. So, thanks for publishing this poem. It’s an otherwise lonely and profitless occupation.
We love the artistic underdogs, the experimentalists, the lovely weirdos — who or what might you get creative joy or energy from that others might not be aware of yet?
Yeah, and when I discover these strangely creative entities I need to check out their backgrounds, next thing you know I’m down the Wikipedia rabbit hole, discovering all sorts of useful tidbits, the fact that Aubrey Beardsley died at age 26 of TB, who had a “face like a silver hatchet, and grass green hair,” according to Oscar Wilde. You can’t make this shit up.
What are you working on now?
I’m putting together a collection of stories called Reports from the Dead Poets’ Society, using the interview format as part of the genre-bending.
How or where or with what does a poem begin?
Lately, I tend to follow the advice of Robert Creeley, that is, allow the line to dictate the direction of the poem rather than having an ending already worked out and building around that ending. It’s more fun and offers more opportunity for surprise. Of course, it’s also a bit like walking a high wire without a net, but…
Are there other art forms that inspire or inform your poetry?
Film noir, foreign films, music. I have a collection of poems coming out in 2025 titled …more songs the radio won’t play…, which riffs on popular tunes from 70s and 80s, mostly.
How do you make space for poetry in your daily routine?
I don’t. I tend to be a crammer. Once I get rolling on an idea, I keep at it until it’s done. Then I’m back to walking the dog and cleaning the bathroom.
What are you reading or watching or listening to lately that intrigues or inspires you?
Everything is grist for the mill. I’m a very indiscriminate sponge.
Have you ever received advice (or has there been something you’ve learned on your own) about writing or revising poems that has made you a better poet? What was it?
You don’t need to end each poem with a revelation or explanation.
Do you belong to a writer’s group? If not, where do you find poetry community and feedback?
No. I used to find my poetry community at live readings in bars. That’s changed since COVID.
How did you begin writing poetry? Was there a specific inspiration or reason?
I was writing fiction and a prof at SFU told me that trying my hand at poetry would help me hone my prose style.
In terms of poetic style or craft, is there a big question you are trying to find an answer for?
I’m just trying to present something that might find an audience of like-minded individuals, or who might find my work vaguely interesting. Otherwise, it’s how do you convince people to actually buy a book of poems. That’s a big question with no clear answer.