Pacific Book Review   

Questions in the Balance

Pacific Book Review Author Interview:  Christopher W. Boyden

PBR:   Today we have the pleasure of speaking with Christopher W Boyden, poet and author of his first book, a collection of 73 poems titled Questions in the Balance. Christopher, thank you for taking some of your time to share with us.

CWB: It is my pleasure to be your guest today.

PBR:   I must first say I enjoyed your book immensely and have actually read some of your poems to our 5-year old daughter, and she also enjoyed your poetry.

1. How do you visualize our audience when you write?

CWB:   I visualize my audience as a single reader, just like someone sitting on a sofa in my living room.  The poem is almost the same as telling a story, but to a future listener.  Since I have the luxury of so much advance time and thinking, I can work to make the sounds, meter and rhyme flow with a musical quality in a way meant to captivate the “listener’s” attention and also easily follow the story line.

2. Do you think of writing to your peers – mature adults, or teens, or even children as your readers?

CWB: As for the age of my readers, I do not usually write a poem targeting a specific age group. There are some poems, however, where the subject matter may appeal to younger readers, such as the “animal” related poems of Chapter 1.  Specifically, in the poem “Squirrel Day,” the sheer variety and rapid succession of the animal’s appearances in the poem is like walking through a nature preserve or “open zoo,” which most kids love to do.

            In contrast, the first poem of Chapter 3, titled, “We’re always asking, Why?” would appeal to a more mature reader who would understand and respect the philosophy presented, involving the ultimate existential question of human purpose and existence.

            While the imagery does not come close to that of “Squirrel Day,” it evokes intriguing questions for the reader’s own self-introspection, not just the following of a story line or adopting my point of view.

PBR:   You were quite precise with your pentameter foot within your written prose.  Frankly, you make it look easy.   How would you describe your creative process of wordsmithing?  Do you first think of a rhyme, and then space it out accordingly?

CWB:             Concerning the process I utilize to create a poem, I start with a life experience or something I have realized or learned, which is a message to myself, basically.  I then begin, in my audio graphic mind, with close to a photographic memory, to encapsulate in words many sub images, which make up the story line, with one or two images being developed and presented per stanza.  In that way, the poem stays on focus overall, without becoming too cluttered or confusing, so that the reader can actually “feel” if not also visualize, what I was experiencing at the time of the event.

            The pentameter cadence, I believe, is both the easiest for the ear to follow and the most versatile of all meters, while still allowing for a wide variety of subject matters.

            Relative to the rhyme patterns in my poems, both end-line and inter-line types, only about one quarter of them are contained in my first draft.  Those drafts will be changed 4 to 5 times with end-line words being changed and/or inter-line rhymes “coming to me” and then added.  Typically, after the first draft, I think of hundreds of synonyms (or even 2 to 3 short words) which relate the same meaning, but with a masculine or feminine rhyme, which further promotes the musical quality of the poem.

PBR:  Over the past years, 37 to be exact since 1974 when you won your first award, you have collected quite a few “trophies.”  On the risk of not wanting to belittle any, can you please mention to us which ones meant the most to you?

CWB:   My first poetry award, quite literally, caught me by surprise in many ways, beginning to end.

            As a political science major at Fairleigh Dickenson University during the 24/7 “Watergate” coverage, my faculty advisor reminded me that I was two credits short on “electives” and had to take more than just “pre-law” courses in order to graduate.  So I went through the listed “offerings,” but none of them sounded very interesting.

            Then I saw “Creative Writing – Poetry” and remembered “way back” in the 4^th and 5^th grade, reading and reciting the poetry of Robert Frost when I lived in Massachusetts.

            I always enjoyed his poems, especially those about nature, such as the horse pulling his sleigh through deep snow or a long walk in the woods with the trees ablaze with autumn colors. I could look out my window back then and see the same things!  He was, very much, the “Poet Laureate of New England” when I was young.

            The course began with the mechanics of structure, meter and the use of rhyme, not studying any poets in particular, but rather, many examples of multiple and varied poetic styles and types.

            Toward the middle of the semester, just before Spring Break, our professor advised that, “instead of a final exam, each student would be required to submit an original poem and enter it in the upcoming University Villanelle Poetry Competition (open to all), to be judged by the vote of the entire student body (but graded by the professor as our final exam).

            I had never written a villanelle before and the few we had in class or for assignments seemed so repetitive in line structure that I would never have selected a villanelle format on my own.  Further, being mandated to write something “creative” seemed to me a contradiction in terms.  Nonetheless, I had no choice!

            That Spring Break I spent at my parent’s cottage in Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, a thin sliver of barrier islands made into a National Seashore Nature Preserve.  The cottage needed some carpentry and masonry work, and the fishing was excellent; so off I went, with my college books in the trunk, including a blank pad of paper with villanelle” written on the top and copies of a few examples to follow.

            The second day there, I went surf fishing on one of the (many) abandoned beaches and saw hundreds of pods of porpoises (dolphins to most)  6 to 8 per pod, extending from 100 feet in proximity all the way to the Eastern horizon! I was very impressed, not only be the sheer magnitude of their numbers, but also how close some were to shore. As I walked closer to the water, with my fishing pole in hand, the porpoises retreated by the same distance, which I had advanced.  When I put down my pole, however, they moved in closer again!  I had understood their message!  Without the pole, I was no threat to them (not that I would try to fish anyway, no fish there and if I did try, I could accidentally “snag” one). I stood there over an hour and for the ones close to me (about 75 feet),  I could see their eyes, as they broke the water to breathe.

            As I occasionally waved one hand, one member of each passing pod would “slap” its tail on the water in response, as it re-submerged!  I felt very much that we were communicating, an inter-species type of sign language, yet I could still sense their collective caution, not one would get closer to me than any other.

            As darkness came, I headed back to the cottage and there on the kitchen table was my note pad, empty except for the word, “Villanelle” at the top.  “Could this be a coincidence?”  “Is it possible they could know I needed a subject for my poem?”  Well, as I don’t believe in coincidence, just cause and effect, I had found my subject on _________actually they had found me!

            As I wrote the poem, “Why?”, I more fully understood and felt their message, their fear of what we simply-titled humans were doing to their oceans.  The regretative line structure of the villanelle, once boring, perfectly fit the type of protest message which I (we) needed to “get out” to the world.  This was the time of the very ecology concerns, when Jacques Cousteau began to spread the word that our oceans were “the canary in the cal mine,” a warning signal of bad things to follow if mankind did not “clean up its act.”

            I submitted my poem after only a few minor changes, and it was voted to be the first place competition winner!  (The dolphins succeeded!)

            If I had not won that competition, this book would not likely have been written (Another win for the Dolphins!)

            The other “award” of which I am most proud was in relation to the poem, “Responsibility,” which I wrote on Earth Day 2009.  I had just viewed Al Gore’s documentary, An Inconvenient Truth, about man’s poisoning of the environment.  I mailed a cop to his “Climate Project,” with a copy of the poem “Why?” as well.  About two weeks later, I received a personal call from Tipper Gore!  She aid, “Your poetry is incredible; you should write a book!” “We are posting your poems on our website for all to see.”  “Thank you so much!

            That phone call was the final motivation that resulted in the publication of my first book (The Dolphins win again!)

PBR:  A.  I was taken back with a few of your dedications. When you write, do you think of someone in your past that brought out your particular emotion?

CWB:  My dedications reflect and are reserved for only my deepest empathetic emotions, such as “Wide Eyed Tears,” which is dedicated to all children of divorce.  As an attorney who has handled several hundred divorces, I have seen these children, in my office, with either their mom or dad (never both).  They look at me with a type of thousand-yard stare; hoping that I can make their pain go away, make it all better for them.  Of course, I can’t.  I can only lessen the pain, get it over as quickly as possible.  Knowing they will carry the emotional scars of their parents’ separation, my heart goes out to each and every one.

            The poem “Sunflower” was specifically written as an allegorical tribute to my daughter, “Kacie”, who has always brightened my days with her love of life, cheerful attitude and contagious smile.

            Regarding the other poems with dedications, those address the human pain and my sorrow of losing friends to death (too early). They were specifically written to honor their memories and in a meager attempt to assuage my own feelings of loss while knowing and accepting that my “end day” is also coming.

PBR:  B.  How would you differentiate your writing from curiosity or imagination rather than cognitive experience?

CWB:  Each poem I write is a deliberate and intentional “project” based upon my own life’s experiences or observations.

            The core message, while not always evident at the beginning or even middle of a poem, must come through at the end clearly and effectively or, to me, the poem is incomplete, left hanging.

            A writing based upon curiosity or imagination, on the other hand, would seem perfectly find, by definition, leave the reader wondering or even assuming his or her own conclusions, based upon the poet’s questions or forays into the unknown.

PBR:  You garnished your book with black and white photographs.  So what are some of your other creative outlets?

CWB:  The black and white photographs in my book are just the “tip of the iceberg.”  I have amassed a huge library of photography going back to 1967 when, as a first-year student at Philips Andover Academy, I took “photo lab.”  These were the days of black and white only, darkrooms, smelly chemical baths and long hours trying to get one shot “right.” 

            With today’s memory cards, computer pixels and editing software, it’s a whole different art form, and I have become quite good at it. 

            The cover of my book was the only color photograph allotted by my publisher.  I took that from 35,000 feet over Atlanta’s airport while returning from my 40^th class reunion at Andover with my daughter Kacie, who had never seen New England before.

            I have also enjoyed making my own furniture, especially fine inlaid tables, and have recently become interested in propagating and hybridizing plants through cuttings and grafting.

PBR:  Pardon me for mentioning the Alligator attack – it was very bold of you to run into the water to save our dog, risking your own life and limb.

CWB:  The “Gator Trilogy”, which I call the three poems written in memory of my dog Shadow, is an example of the love and loss of a cherished pet, in the classical sense.

            My friend’s secretary called me one day and said she had been feeding part of her lunch, each day for a week, to a stray dog because the other stray dogs hanging around the dumpster behind her office was not allowing this one dog to get any food.  She knew I had a huge backyard and loved animals, so she said, “please” enough times that she brought the dog out to me the very next day.

            I did my best to dress the dog’s wounds and gave her some leftover chicken (de-boned of course).  She was a very think 3 or 4-year old Australian Shepherd, but had a beautiful coat and big brown eyes, and a sweet disposition.

            It was a Saturday, and I had lots of yard word to do. The dog was following me everywhere, not begging for more food, but just watching me.  When I was in one spot for a while, she would lay down and stare at me. When I moved, she moved with me; hence, the name “Shadow.”

            I have had a few dogs in my life and have known many others, but this one was very special.  She would always be at my feet when I was working at my desk or watching TV. When I was sleeping or at work, she would “guard” the front door, waiting for me, at the same place she first came in.

            She could tell me when I was upset, nervous or stressed out, because she would put her head safely upon my knee and just stare at me until I smiled, then she would lay back down at my feet again.

            We would go for a ½ miles walk every evening when I got home from work; earlier on the weekends; along a set of canal banks surrounding my community, which is on the eastern edge of the Everglades.  Shadow would always be 10 to 20 feet ahead of me, sniffing the ground, wagging her tail, chasing a squirrel or a bird and just having fun, as dogs do

            In the six years I had lived there previously, I had only seen one small alligator.  My two neighbors had never seen any, so it was not a dangerous place, or so I thought.

            One day, during the last minutes of our walk, Shadow ventured a bit closer than normal to the edge of the canal and like a ball of water exploding, an 8’3” alligator charged up the bank and grabbed her by the neck!  It started spinning in what is known as a “death roll;” very effective at drowning its victim.

            I had been a certified scuba diver for 30 years at that time, and have always kept in good physical shape.  I had some “close calls” with sharks and barracuda and South Florida’s coral reefs.  I have always been a strong swimmer too.  So, at the instant of the attack, I knew there was a 2 to 3 second chance for me to act or I would watch my Shadow die right before my eyes!  A voice from deep inside my core screamed “No!, No!, This can not happen!”  So, I dived in and grabbed her hind legs.  I pulled her out of the gator’s mouth and slid my right arm under her collar so I could swim to shore.  By yanking so hard though, I actually pulled the gator and myself closer together.

            Before I could turn toward shore, the gator latched on to my left elbow and started spinning again.  This beast was bigger and stronger than I had thought; and I was “not match” for this “dinosaur” in his own element.  However, knowing that “panic kills” underwater, I timed my gasps for air with the gator’s rolls (about 20), so I managed to get a breath of air every 10 seconds or so.  I knew where the gator’s eye was, just 3 inches above m left elbow; and even though I couldn’t see it with all the spinning and white water, that target’s distance and position never changed. 

            I must have punched its eye at least 30 times, and it finally let me go.  I swam to the bank, dragging Shadow with me, and tried CPR, but dogs do not know how to hold their breath and she was “under” a long time (about 4 minutes).  I wrote the last two poems of the trilogy the very next day, one right after the other.

PBR:  What’s next for you? 

CWB:  My son, Matthew, is a tech wizard and he has created a website for my book.  The site will showcase 10-20 photographs specifically relating, in subject matter or emotion, to each poem.  This will work very well when my book if converted to an e-book where a “Kindle”-type reader could present the poem on one side and a slideshow of corresponding photographs on the other.

            I am also looking into producing an audio version of my book.

            Back in the mid 90’s, I also collaborated with a few songwriters who used 12 of my poems as lyrics in varied musical styles, from rock and roll and country to folk and ballad.  I would like to see those 12 professional produced and to offer my poetry, as song lyrics, to other interested and creative musicians.

            Lastly, I will be writing more poetry, since I see the problems of our environmental challenges as being directly linked to the present day Wall Street protests.  My poetry is about to take a decidedly more political turn.  The greed of “the haves” is not only depriving “the have-nots”; the pollution they cause in perpetrating their selfish lifestyles is only an after effect; but there is a direct correlation.  They hate regulations….no wonder, why? (The Dolphins and their human “friends” will never by this poet be forgotten.

PBR:  We all wish you the best of success with your premier book, and hope to see more of your work in the future.

CWB:  Thank you for the opportunity this interview has given to my book and myself.

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