Me, “Best Dressed”?

The author in a black and silver salwar kameez, smiling, seated, one leg outstretched, outdoors in Bangalore, India.

Photo by RKN Photography

A few notes on how my community helped create this book

So this is the closest I’m likely to get to a fashionista award. :)

“The Wardrobe,” a very fine literary journal, chose me as their featured poet last week — which they call the “best dressed.” Get it? Wardrobe? Best Dressed? OK!

Every day for a week, they chose a poem from my book Bountiful Instructions for Enlightenment.

It was fun and surprising to see their choices, and made me reflect on how each poem developed. I realized how community has played a HUGE role in the development of my work. I’m an auto-didact as a poet — no M.F.A., no formal course of study.  I never even took a creative writing class in college.

So everything I’ve learned has been from knowing and reading other poets, and in short-term community workshops. I’m so grateful for those spaces.

Here are the behind-the-scenes stories of the five poems:

Her Discourse on the Leaf

Kate Braverman, in profile and front view, scowling into a microphoneBack in the 1990s I was a copy editor at a newspaper. One weekend I took a furlough to feed my creative side through a UC-Santa Cruz extension course with the still-underrated Kate Braverman. Kate was a brilliant and original fiction writer who never received the acclaim she deserved, and was endlessly bitter because she knew it. All Saturday she held forth on various techniques and strategies and passionately stated ideas about writing. During a break, she collected the giant maple leaves that had fallen all over campus and gave us each one leaf, with instructions to come back on Sunday with a piece.

In a cheap motel room I poured my fury, shame, and bucketloads of tears—for her? for myself? for our country at that moment?—into that leaf.

I also met Gerald Fleming in that workshop, and he published an early version of this piece in his literary journal Barnabe Mountain Review, helping me to edit and clarify the language.


various shades of green silk squares with writing stitched onto them in red threadThis poem is about how it sometimes feels to be an Asian American woman writer, expected to write to stereotypes.

I was lucky enough to be part of a queer Asian American women’s writing group in San Francisco, which lasted long enough for us to meet several times before the co-organizers broke up. I also remember being particularly moved by my friend Indigo Som’s art installation, in which she stitched words onto various lake-colored silk squares.

I can’t remember exactly, but I suspect this poem emerged from my time in that lovely little community.

The Goddess of Lemons

Sliced lemons and limes of many varietiesThis poem started out as a fake translation. I wrote it in a tiny four-person workshop a million years ago in New York City, taught by Jeet Thayil at the Asian American Writers’ Workshop. We read the poem in Italian, then wrote our own “translation.”

I was in my 20s and learning like a sponge, and I distinctly remember Jeet’s kind words about it at the time; he told me it was not far from the spirit of the original. (Teachers: A little kindness can have such a big footprint!)

I kept working on the poem over the years, and when I was putting together Bountiful Instructions for Enlightenment, I found that it fit in perfectly with other the goddess and mythology poems in the book.

Archaeologies of the Present: The Professionals

I’m always totally surprised when people are interested in these poems, which are long and experimental and, to me, totally weird.  I wrote the “Archaeologies of the Present” sequence at the turn of the millennium, 1999-2000.

At the time, the writer Lisa Margonelli were in a fellowship program together at the Sundance Institute. It was Lisa who gave me the spark about the pastry chefs using blowtorches, which appears in this poem — a new development in the San Francisco gourmand scene in 1999.

Archaeologies of the Present: The Hungry

Animated chickens, runningAnd finally, another flashback to 2000. This piece refers most obviously to the weirdness that is/was the 4th of July, and also to a surreal cartoon movie “Chicken Run” (2000) which I for some reason saw, starring Mel Gibson’s voice.

What can I say, millennials? You really were born at a strange time in America.

Get the book now!

Bountiful Instructions for Enlightenment has been called “electric,” “stunning,” and “fresh” by much finer writers than I. Here’s how you can grab your copy:

In the US/worldwide:

Send $16.99 via to (includes shipping).

Or buy on Amazon:


In India:

Email for bank transfer details. The local price is only 350 rupees, and funds go to directly to The (Great) Indian Poetry Collective to publish new poetic voices from India.

What to Do When You Get a Nibble, Part 2


So you’ve got a “nibble” from a publisher! Hooray! You’ve done your happy dance and freaked out to your friends — now what?

Here are some questions you might ask the editor. This assumes she or he has seen your book or proposal and is seriously interested.

(Missed Part 1 of my What To Do When You Get a Nibble series? Check it out: 10 Questions To Ask a Literary Agent.)


6 Questions to Ask an Acquisitions Editor

Three about the editing process:

1. How much do you typically work with authors? What is your editing approach or style? Would you say that you’re more hands-on vs. laissez faire?

2. Would you be the actual editor, or do you typically pass projects on to a junior editor? If the latter, could I have a conversation with the person who would actually be editing my book?

3. (If you’ve submitted a partial manuscript, or if it’s a two-book contract:) What is the deadline and process completing the book? Would you expect me to be in touch with drafts along the way, or would you prefer that I deliver a finished product?

About the business end:

4. What kind of print run would you foresee for this book? Are we talking about hardcover, paperback, e-books?

5. What kind of marketing do you typically do for a book like this? Do you envision a book tour? What media outreach would you handle? What part of the publicity and marketing would be my responsibility?

6. (If your book has international angles) Are you interested in rights for this region only, or worldwide? If worldwide, what kind of marketing and distribution do you have in other countries? Where are your biggest foreign sales?

No publisher yet?  There are many good resources on agents, publishing, and how to do your own market research out there. Poets & Writers magazine publishes a fantastic Guide to Literary Agents that tells you everything about the process of getting an agent who can submit your work to publishing houses.

Want help?  I love helping authors bring manuscripts and book proposals to completion through private mentoring, where we can work on your project at your own pace. Or check out my Creative Art of Proposals e-course, which gives you the complete methodology I’ve successfully used for decades to hone glorious, persuasive query and proposal language.


What the Stone Buddha Said

What the Stone Buddha Said

“Your rage is pomegranates spilling open on ice, is the flute’s thin silver seam, is a volcano spitting rivulets of fire to wash clean these corrupt lands, is women’s oars slicing the sea to steer your gorgeous fucking hot mess goddamn revolution.”




What To Do When You Get a Nibble, Part 1

fishing-rod-and-fishI’ve been getting some requests from clients who are getting “nibbles” (YAY!) and wondering what to talk about in the first conversation with an agent. Here are some of my thoughts.

This assumes that the agent has seen a proposal or writing sample from you, the author, and has expressed interest.


10 questions to ask a literary agent

1. What is the range of monetary advance that you would hope or expect us to get for this book?

This is a business relationship, so don’t be afraid to talk money. Agents will only take on your project if they see it as financially viable enough to be worth the time they’ll put into selling it, which means that they will have at least a minimum dollar figure in mind.

2. How much do you work with authors before taking the book to publishers? How engaged do you like to be in the revision process? How many drafts do you typically read?

3. How many clients do you have right now? How often do you typically speak with your authors?

Everyone’s different; you may want more or less agent involvement. These kinds of questions help you to find out if you’re on the same page and set mutual expectations early.

4. What changes do you envision in my proposal and/or manuscript before you’d take it out for sale?

When I was shopping the proposal for the book that eventually became Leaving India, I had an agent tell me that although he loved the idea, it had “too many characters with really long names” in it. He suggested simplifying. Glad I asked! You should, too.

5. What types of editors/publishers would you approach?

Agents may not want to share the names and contacts before you sign, but they should be able to give you a general sense. The more specific, the better, of course. If you feel hesitant about asking this, please keep in mind that you’re not asking them to do extra work here. If they’re ready to take on your project, they probably have at least a couple of ideas for where to pitch it.

6. After you get a publishing contract for a writer, how engaged do you remain in the process? How do you see your role in this phase?

7. We all hope it doesn’t happen, but I’ve heard of situations where a writer gets into a difficult situation with a publisher over content or something else. Can you describe a time that you went to bat for an author?

Your relationship with your agent carries through the entire life of your book. Know what to expect in the post-contract period.

8. Would you be able to put me in touch with one of your other clients, so I can speak with them about the working relationship?

(Note: This is also something you can do on your own.) Please don’t ask the agent who her or his clients are; you should already know that from your research. Most agencies these days list their deals and clients on their websites.

9. If we move forward, would you like me to sign a contract with your agency, or do you prefer to shop it around first without an exclusive contract?

My agent asked me to sign a contract before doing any work on my behalf, which makes sense to me. However, I’ve been hearing lately of writers whose agents want to see if they get any “nibbles” from publishers before going through the whole contract-signing process. To me, this feels like a lower level of commitment on both sides, which can be beneficial to you as well; if you’re not happy with the attention your agent is giving you, you can part ways amicably. Either way, it’s good to clarify what the terms are before proceeding further.

10. What makes you want to represent my project?

If you ask nothing else, please don’t skip this one! First of all, your hard-working writer self deserves to hear the praise. Write it down and soak it up. Second, you need to hear how passionate this person is about your project, and why, because that’s what prospective publishers are going to hear. Listen closely and let this answer inform your all-important “gut check.”

I was lucky enough to have four agents to interview, and the one I went with ultimately was the one whose understanding of the book was closest to my own.

No agent yet?  There are many good resources on agents, publishing, and how to do your own market research out there. Poets & Writers magazine publishes a fantastic Guide to Literary Agents that tells you everything about the process.

Want help?  My Blueprint Your Book workshop puts you the path to crafting a great book and book proposal, and my Creative Art of Proposals e-course helps you hone your query language and synopsis to their most persuasive glory.

Next: Questions to ask an interested editor/publisher.

Constraint Based Poetry: Notes on craft talks by Shane McCrae & Teemu Manninen

[This post is part of a series of my notes on a video lectures from the free How Writers Write Poetry e-course from The University of Iowa’s International Writing Program.]

Generative Distraction

Shane McCrae = 3 books of poems + 2013 NEA Creative Writing Fellowship + teaches at Oberlin

“Generative distraction”: a fancy way to say that sometimes it helps when writing to have something to distract your mind.

TS Eliot put for the theory of “disassociation of sensibility”: that with the rise of Milton and Dryden and Pope, “there came a divorce between head and heart.” Anxiety about expressing feeling; poems became more intellectual, idea-based.

To reunite idea and feeling, you need spontaneity, so that “even if your poem is labored, even if it takes you years to do it, it has to feel as if, in some way, the poem is discovering itself as it goes along.”  That’s what poetry tries to do now and what readers expect.

Often the problem for young poets is that they write poems based on ideas about feelings. This doesn’t really work because it takes the spontaneity out of the poem – there is no surprise, just the idea that the poet wanted to express.

You can still achieve this if you have an idea you want to express, by adding a constraint. For example, an elaborate rhyme scheme:

Ode To a Nightingale by John Keats

Another example of a rule – French novelist who wrote a whole book without the letter e.
[There are actually a few novels that do this, like this and this.]

This forces you to find a way to say things that are fresh; to discover.

Constraint as Inventive Balance

Teemu Manninen = Finnish poet + critic + part of a poetry publishing cooperative + co-editor of encyclopedia of contemporary Finnish poets

Two models of the artist:
• Penelope (from the Odyssey), who worked at the loom all day and unraveled her work every night. Toiling as the route to skill.
• Athena (Greek goddess of wisdom and inspiration), who emerged fully formed. Instinct & intuition as the route.

Often writers use both. One way to the find the balance is constraint.

The Oulipo (“workshop of potential literature”) group of writers, philosophers, mathematicians used this technique a lot. One of the founders, Raymond Queneau, is credited with saying that one should be like a mouse that builds itself a labyrinth in order to escape it. Neither total freedom nor total constraint, but a self-chosen constraint. Writing is always under some kind of constraint: grammar, metaphor, line. We can fall under the thrall of unconscious constraints.

In choosing a constraint for yourself, be very conscious of everything you do, be very careful and faithful to the standards you set out for yourself.


Write a poem with a constraint.

Christopher Merrill gave a “diabolical” example that Richard Kenney assigns: write a 10 word poem in which each word has one letter more than the previous word. Engage your mind with obstacles.

Other examples: A poem that has to have 6 book titles; or 4 windows.

Note from Minal

I love writing constraint-based poetry, but I found these talks overly general (like many in the series). They were more “why” than “how,” which I don’t find very useful. I would have preferred more current and diverse examples, since this is how most contemporary poets write now, and specific prompts from the speakers.

I’m also surprised to see this topic discussed without reference to the American artists who started working with this concept consciously in the 60s/70s (John Cage, Meredith Monk, Allen Ginsberg, Anne Waldman), let alone the experimental poets (Lyn Hejinian, Sesshu Foster) or anyone more recent. This has been a weakness throughout the course; it’s had minimal ethnic or global diversity even though it’s produced by the “international” side of the Iowa program. The Iowa teachers seem to rely very heavily on Yeats, Keats, Shakespeare, Roethke, Hopkins, Wordsworth, Frost, and a handful of other (yes, mostly dead white male) poets as their canonical examples. A few writers of color have given brief talks in which they do refer to more diverse and more contemporary poets. But it’s amazing to me that so far, no one has cited major figures such as June Jordan, Audre Lorde, and Adrienne Rich, either for their intellectual contributions to the craft nor for their technique. I can only guess that this lack of diversity is an accurate reflection of the “gold standard” in academic poetry education, even in the year 2014. I do wonder where young poets in these institutions go to find what their contemporaries are writing; after spending so much time and money for an MFA education, are they required to supplement the official curricula with their own investigations? I’m curious!

Anyway, after hearing these two lectures, I wasn’t satisfied and went looking for examples of constraint-based exercises.

Here are some from avant garde poet Bernadette Mayer:

  • Systematically eliminate the use of certain kinds of words or phrases from a piece of writing: eliminate all adjectives from a poem of your own, or take out all words beginning with ‘s.’
  • Systematically derange the language: write a work consisting only of prepositional phrases, or, add a gerund to every line of an already existing work.
  • Structure a poem or prose writing according to city streets, miles, walks, drives. For example: Take a fourteen-block walk, writing one line per block to create a sonnet.
  • Write five short expressions of the most adamant anger; make a work out of them.
  • Write a work gazing into a mirror without using the pronoun I.

Now those are some ideas I can work with!

I also have some in my 10-minute Writing Exercises for Muscles of Steel:

  • Write a 10-minute sentence about one person, no periods.
  • With your non-writing hand, touch or hold an object out of your sight. With your writing hand, write the colors, etc. that it feels like, even though you can’t see it.
  • Practice randomness: Make each sentence (line) completely unrelated to the previous.

(Get more muscles here.)


Containing Multitudes: Notes on lectures by Dora Malech & Tarfia Faizullah

I really enjoyed these two linked lectures, in which two poets put forth theories that you can see them engaging directly in their own poetic craft. Dora Malech focuses on “inconstancy” and the excitement that happens when the speaker of a poem changes her mind. Tarfia Faizullah talks about vulnerability as a key tool, an issue that I’ve also discussed in relation to writing personal nonfiction (link to downloadable essay, here). They use these concepts as ways to think about bringing multiple selves into our poems.

The assignments at the end relate mostly to Dora’s lecture. Tarfia’s portion starts at 12:11.

[This post is part of a series of my notes on a video lectures from the free How Writers Write Poetry e-course from The University of Iowa’s International Writing Program.]

Part 1:
On Syntactic Turns and Multiple Selves

Dora Malech = two collections of poetry + Ruth Lily Fellowship

“The word” is a promise, a contract, faith and constancy. This urge can carry over into our writing, but is not always helpful. It can stand in the way of discovery.

“No tears for the writer, no tears for the reader. No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader.” 
—Robert Frost 

In “the poems that excite us and that become touchstones for us in our own lives, we find that there’s an element of inconstancy, of change, of going back on one’s words. And that is, in a way, the kind of hallmark of a writer like Shakespeare.” His sonnets are full of coordinating conjunctions, “that I like to call hinge words, words where you watch a mind change.”

So we watch a mind not giving us a clear stance, but “wrestling with an issue, a question, an emotion, a state of mind.”

Example: Woman’s Constancy by John Donne

“In our myths, that idea of inconstancy is so often negative. Orpheus turns around and he’s punished. Lot’s wife looks back and she’s punished. And so poetry becomes this place where we can go to dignify and find beauty in the ways in which we can’t keep our word, the ways in which we are unfaithful and that’s part of the human condition on some level.”

Ways to create change of mind in a poem:

  • hinge words: or, but, though, if, unless. 
  • break the metrical contract — change the expectation
  • the nature of the metaphor

Example: Sailing to Byzantium by W. B. Yeats.  Uses both: the meter changes after the word unless.

Example: Free Union (L’Union Libre) by Andre Breton uses multiple images/metaphors for the wife, to demonstrate the shifting nature of the bond.

Example: Facing It by Yosef Komunyakaa. Notice the turn after the word No. It’s beautiful to inhabit multiple truths at once; you don’t have to choose one or the other.

“In a world in which fact and reason are valued, in which politicians are called flip-floppers if they change their mind, in which our word is our bond, we’re supposed to be men and women of our words, poetry is a place where we can go to find the thrilling plurality of our words, in which we can be men and women of all of our words. … So I would encourage you to give me, your reader, not only your word, singular, but the thrilling plurality of your words. … You can show the reader that they’re not alone in their stumbling, in their stuttering, in their confusion, in their uncertainty.”

Part 2:
On Syntax and Vulnerability

Tarfia Faizullah = editor of the Asian Literary Review + winner of awards + Fulbrighter + lives in Detroit + author of Seam on Bangladeshi war rape survivors

[I’ve written about Tarfia’s beautiful work in my blog series about reading as a writer, right here.]

“Syntax is identity.” – Li-Young Lee

Poetry allows the self to be multiple. “As an individual, for example, I am a Bangladeshi- American, Brooklyn-born, raised in West Texas, currently living in Detroit woman. And as a self, I am somebody who is very concerned with how to both, how to live outside of those prescribed categories while also allowing those categories to remain as fully intact as possible.”

That’s why we say “the speaker” not “the poet” when talking about the voice of a poem; it allows for the fact that it could be a multiple aspect of the poet.

Distinction between confessionalism (subjective) and autobiography (objective). Vulnerability = owning the various phases and multiple histories we’ve been through, and how this can allow us to write in many different modes. Break through categories and ideologies.

Globalization is happening but we are not all learning/globalizing at the same rate. Delving into our own inner lives enables us to be more empathetic to each other and also ourselves.

Key questions: “How do we write a truly vulnerable poem that is informed by our experiences and our perspectives, but not necessarily beholden to them? … How do we marry content and form in order to create a truly human poem?”

Vulnerability is what’s really happening in American poetics right now. It enables poets to use a lot of different techniques and tools, not fidelity to one aesthetic or movement.

Example: In Black and White by Erica Dawson. She is a neo-formalist and fearless in what she brings into a rigidly formal structure. Pop culture, vernacular language, gestures come into the poem.

You don’t need to just rely on description. Syntax can create atmosphere, orient the reader — not just in time and place but also in a set of concerns, emotional or intellectual.

Example: There Are Birds Here by Jamaal May. Uses a single word to describe the phenomenon of looking: “no.” Talks back at the reader to transcend the stereotypical idea of what Detroit is. There is an “I” but it describes the full self that is paying attention, not a personal/individual history. It asks us to consider a landscape in a very expansive yet precise way.

“All earthly experience is partial.”
—Louise Glück

“I can only define it as kind of gradual accumulation of information and as a specialization. You can know more about one thing but you can never know everything about one thing. It’s hopeless – so that we live surrounded by more or less ghostly objects.”

Vulnerability allows us to accept this uncertainty and that we’ll never fully know everything, and still talk about multiple possibilities of the “ghostly objects.”

Two assignments:

• A sonnet which has a major change/turn – voice, style, sonic possibility, attention, argument.
• Write a poem with six hinge words — such as and, but, or, nor, yet, so, until, except, unless, no, not, or any other word or phrase that turns the logic of your sentence.

Prosody (Meter): Notes on a talk by Richard Kenney and William Trowbridge

Here are my notes on another in the series of University of Iowa lessons on poetry craft.

Part 1: Nuts and Bolts

Richard Kenney = MacArthur genius + poet who deals with evolution, physics, time.

So the first thing to note here is that Richard Kenney is totally hilarious to watch. He has a very excitable speaking manner and talks himself into random corners. My favorite part of the video starts around 1:45, when he’s talking about counting syllables in a line of poetry, and somehow he says:

“You could count unicorns. Five unicorns in a single poetic line would, would, uh, …well you see the problem… it would, its sentimentality would be the least of it.”

That was enough to get me started on my writing assignment for the week!

He also has a great schtick where he uses actual nuts and bolts to demonstrate syllables and stresses. Pop in at 3:00 to see a haiku about turnips counted out with nuts, and at 4:10 to see a rendition of an Olde English poem about Sir Galahad recited with bolts, and then a whole bunch of nursery rhymes, and then a Gerard Manley Hopkins poem, and on and on.

In English there are really just two rhythms that we’re trying to approximate: one is the heartbeat (double rhythm), and one is the hoofbeat (triple rhythm).

Out of these, you can build a line of a poem in two ways:
• the iambic pentameter, which approximates speech, or
• the shorter line, which is like a song rhythm.

The meter is mechanical, “made out of nuts and bolts like this,” and sounds robotic. But human speech varies the stresses according to emotion and feeling. So “don’t worry about it,” he says; “the meter goes along under the surface without any problem,” as long as you revert to the pattern strongly.

“Read the great poems and you’ll find these effects happening all the time.”

“Is it possible to write this way and sound anything like a normal human being? Will it necessarily sound like some sort of faux Shakespearean? No, it isn’t very difficult at all to do this day and night. The fact is I could speak that way for a long time without you noticing.”

“These meters don’t exist in the world. They exist in your nervous system. … It’s not about numbers and counting at all. That’s just the mind trying to understand it at a level of detail which is, in practice, all but irrelevant. The truth is, these things are biological effects.”

Meter didn’t originate just because it enhanced memory, but because it’s inherent to us.

William Trowbridge

William Trowbridge = Missouri poet + Academy of American Poets Prize winner

This part of the talk is all about using meter in free verse. He cites Poetic Meter and Poetic Form, by Paul Fussell.

Free verse still involves meter (syllabic stress), rhyme (often internal to the line), and other elements of “formal” verse. If you’re not paying attention, your poem could “fall into” a metrical pattern that
• you fail to take advantage of, missing an opportunity, or
• undermine/works against what you’re trying to say.

Alexander Pope: “The sound should seem an echo to the sense.” (An Essay on Criticism, Part II)

So it’s important for free verse writers to learn how to “scan” a line.

He reads a whole bunch of poems to demonstrate how to scan them, and why the poet chooses certain syllabic effects.  There’s a lot of technical information about the six types of metrical units, etc., which are in the full video transcript.

My favorite example poems were Kinky by Denise Duhamel, from her book which is all about Barbie and Ken (!!), and Apartment by Rae Armantrout.

His advice: Run home and “scan” all your lines and see where you can make them more effective — don’t use an overly heavy beat for a light romantic subject, for example.

References for the technical stuff:
Rhyme and Meter Glossary
Best Words, Best Order by Stephen Dobyns — chapter on free verse


Try writing a poem with the heartbeat (double) or hoofbeat (triple) meter, or with both.

Building a Poem: Notes on a how-to talk by Daniel Khalastchi

Here are my notes on another in the series of University of Iowa lessons on poetry craft. (To see last week’s notes, click here: Sketching for Poets by Robert Hass.)

Lecture: Building a Poem

Khalastchi = on staff at the University of Iowa + co-founder of Rescue Press + born in raised in Iowa + 1st gen Iraqi Jewish American.

In this talk, he shares some ideas for moving into what he calls “the wild construction of possibility” — building on the sketches/notes and turning them into something bigger. There are many ways, not just one way. He says it’s like building a house.

[Note from self: I don't really think so. It's more like building a space dragon.]

5 tools to build a poem

  1. Image. A visual or sensual description.
  2. Figurative language. If every image were literal, that would be boring. Images that represent something else or create comparison/connection make the language come to life.
  3. The line. Use to create emphasis, pacing, mood. (For example, line breaks can create emotional hesitation.) The line gives us a double meaning: itself, and then whatever it means in relation to the lines before and after. Consider, what is the line doing? How can I get a new meaning out of it? If you’re not sure why you’re breaking a line, don’t break the line. You are the one in control of your words that make the line.
  4. Sound (repetition, rhyme), the music of poetry. Line breaks are one of many tools to create music, rhythm. Rhyme creates emphasis and changes mood. Rhythm changes the pace, tone. Can signal the “turn” of the poem.
  5. Form. Constraint can help the writer. Experiment with forms (sonnets, quatrains, etc.) if that works for you.

What a poem is

Quotes/paraphrases from other poets that he cites:

  • James Wright: Poetry is the crucial relation between craft and the imagination.
  • Robert Hass: A good image makes something so real, it’s like being alive twice.
  • Denise Levertov: When you (as the reader of a poem) get to the end of the line, you give the the writer the respect of giving it a half comma. You pause for a second to take in what that line was, and you look at the line as a unit, what it’s doing on its own.

Model poems

“Feared Drowned” by Sharon Olds — for image that is figurative language
“The Funeral” by Norman Dubie — ditto
“The Language” by Robert Creeley — for use of the line
“White, White Collars” by Denis Johnson – for rhythm/music in the lines. Note the misery in the first part of the poem, then at the “turn” (But in my belly’s flames…) he introduces a rhyme scem, AABB, to make it musical and dance.

We work in this building and we are hideous 
in the fluorescent light, you know our clothes 
woke up this morning and swallowed us like jewels 
and ride up and down the elevators, filled with us, 
turning and returning like the spray of light that goes 
around dance-halls among the dancing fools. 
My office smells like a theory, but here one weeps 
to see the goodness of the world laid bare 
and rising with the government on its lips, 
the alphabet congealing in the air 
around our heads. But in my belly’s flames 
someone is dancing, calling me by many names 
that are secret and filled with light and rise 
and break, and I see my previous lives.
“The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe — for rhythm/rhyme in the line
“Sonnet” by Srikanth Reddy (which is not a typical sonnet at all)


Construct a poem however you want (maybe in a form). Consider using some of the sketched or collected lines from previous work as your building materials. Include at least one image and one metaphor.

Classmates, I look forward to seeing you in our class forums :) and please also feel free to poke around this site or connect with me elsewhere:

New e-course now open!


Sketching for poets: Notes on a how-to talk by Robert Hass

So, I’m taking this amazing free online course, How Writers Write Poetry from The University of Iowa’s International Writing Program.  We get twice-weekly video lectures that are all available on YouTube, and we write new poems twice a week to workshop.

I’m finding that I want to channel my inner undergrad and take real lecture notes!  So, I thought I’d share — I also had fun looking up the links to the poems that were quoted in the talk.

My aim is to take notes on at least 30-50% of the lectures this way; I’m assuming some will be more compelling or info-heavy than others.  This first lecture was a real treasure trove; thus, a loooong post!

I’m already finding these exercises incredibly helpful as I put the final touches on my poetry manuscript which is coming out very soon. :)

These notes refer to a video lecture by Robert Hass that is part of the free How Writers Write Poetry e-course from The University of Iowa’s International Writing Program.

Please note that the poet quoted many poems from memory, and some quotations might be paraphrases. Where I have looked up a quotation, I’ve included the link/citation.

Please let me know of any corrections at minal [at] minalhajratwala [dot] com . You can also read the closed-caption transcript on YouTube.

Lecture: Sketching Techniques

Robert Hass = Former US Poet Laureate + 7 books of poetry + founder of the Northern California eco-poetry festival Watershed + winner of MacArthur/Pulitzer/etc. Married to the poet Brenda Hillman.


Hass says “sketching” is a technique for sitting down to the blank page — “which I’m not very good at.”

The painter, Degas, ran into his neighbor, Stéphane Mallarmé. Degas said he was having trouble writing poems; he had ideas but couldn’t turn them into anything. Mallarmé said, “Ah, the problem is that poetry is not made out of ideas, it’s made out of words.”

Sketch 1 line, 2 lines, 3 lines, 4 lines, then a paragraph.

1 line

The basic unit of poetry is a single line.

Some forms are single-line poems. In Japanese, haiku are often written in one long line.

In this world we walk on the roof of hell gazing at flowers
—Issa, 19th c.

That’s the English version. In original, literally, a series of possessives: This world’s hell’s roof’s flower gazing.

Looking for a parking place I can’t find to meditate
— rough paraphrase of a poem by Allen Ginsberg.

The line can be identical to the sentence, or the line can spill over into the next sentence. You get a pause, or you get energy.

The boy walked out into the field to see the white horse.
— paraphrase of a line by DH Lawrence. 

In a single line, it creates a sense of peace. If you broke it other ways, you could create anxiety, or suspense.  [Here is the actual poem, which is a bit different: ]

Examples of wonderful single lines:

All things that love the sun are out of doors.
— William Wordsworth

Felix Randal the farrier, O is he dead then?
—Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Half my hundred year life is gone.
—a Chinese poet <?>

O Rose thou art sick.
— William Blake

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
—Theodore Roethke


  • Write down 20 sentences that might be lines from poems / first lines. Look around the room  you’re in now, and write sentences that are descriptions of things. Look around, check out your feelings, and try writing sentences that are a single thought or phrase. Begin with an image, some record of a feeling, something that takes you inward, a strange metaphor, an image of the adequacy or the inadequacy of the world.

2 lines

One is about identity, two is about relation.

The most famous 2-line poem in Latin:

I hate and love, you may ask me why,
I don’t know but I feel it and suffer.
— Catullus  [several translations of Odi Et Amo here:

It’s two lines but each line has 2 parts.

Look to the blues, spirituals, call & response.


What is it men in women do require?
The lineaments of gratified Desire.

Who is it knows the trouble I’ve seen?
Nobody knows but Jesus.

Emptiness! my bride!
Who whistles? who listens?
— Tomaž Šalamun

The wind that blows
Is all that anybody knows.
— Thoreau

Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me,
Why should you not speak to me?
—Walt Whitman

Last winter I observed the snow on a spree with the northwest wind
And it put me out of conceit of all fences and other imaginary lines.

Soft as the massacre of Suns
By Evening’s Sabres slain
— Emily Dickinson

What’ll I do if you are far away
and I am blue. What’ll I do?
—Irving Berlin

Study of the work songs of the Bantu [in Technicians of the Sacred, ed. Jerome Rothenberg,]: Someone says a line and someone responds. The 2nd line must not be obviously related to the 1st.  For example:

1st person: The elephant was killed by a small arrow.
2nd person: A lake dries up at the edges.

Skillful relationship between the lines: A large thing defeated by something minor. And, the dried lakebed resembles elephant skin.


  • Write a question and then write an answer. Answer in a surprising way.  Or make a statement and then ask a question.
  • Look at your one-liners and see if you want to add a second line. Let the second one surprise you in relation to the first.
  • Consider 2 lines as a game you can play with yourself — quick flash free association to get to the second line.  Try it with the same first line a few times. See what happens. Go Salt: Pepper. Then, Salt: Wound.

3 lines

Here you have the whole world of haiku.

Suma village / A urine-stained quilt / drying on the line


Also think about the rhythm of the body and the rhythm of the mind.

3 is about weaving together different things or parts.


  • Write something out that’s fairly long: description of your day, a vivid dream you’ve had lately. Then try setting the phrases dancing in a  three-line stanza.

4 lines

Humans organize the world into fours. North/South/West/East.  The world of knowledge — like a strong table on all fours.

Models: Chinese quatrain / English ballad.

Yesterday we climbed stony mountain.
The rocks on the trail were the color of trout.
We talked about our lives, about loneliness.
On top, in the fog, we couldn’t see a thing.
—Tu Fu

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
—Robert Frost

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.
—Theodore Roethke

This is the time of year
when almost every night
the frail, illegal fire balloons appear.
Climbing the mountain height,  …
—Elizabeth Bishop

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
— W.B. Yeats

Make a proposition/ask a question.

Often three lines set up the situation and then the fourth line/leg sets the thing down.

Four brushstrokes of what’s in your consciousness.

Can play with rhyme.

Listen to the singing inside four. We are form-seeking, meaning-seeking, symbol-making creatures to the core of our being. This desire fuses with the sets of four, the order and play of numbers – so this is often where poetry really comes alive.


  • Make a four-line gesture that comes to some kind of peace, or question, or disturbance at the end.
  • Write a line. Then write a pair of lines—see how many odd ways you can make relation of twoness: grammatical parallel, rhyme, same idea, contrasting idea. Then try the dance of three’s: take perceptions you have and see what they look line in a three-line stanza, set your imagination skipping. And then maybe for the task of definition, the four line stanza would be appropriate.
  • Hass shares an exercise that his wife, the poet Brenda Hillman, assigns: Write a four-line poem that completely sums up your view of the world.

Whew! That’s plenty to do!

Classmates, I look forward to seeing you in our class forums :) and please also feel free to poke around this site or connect with me elsewhere:

#ReadWomen2014: Her Name Is Kaur

Her Name is Kaur

I was honored to be asked to blurb this first-of-its kind anthology, and here’s what I said:

Her Name is Kaur pushes past the boundaries of romance to illuminate the love at the very heart of the faith. In this groundbreaking book, Meeta Kaur has gathered a diverse and fresh group of stories of growing up Sikh and redneck, Sikh and queer, Sikh and daydreaming, Sikh and heartbroken, Sikh and deeply beloved.

Whether discussing the everyday (mother-in-law conflicts) or the taboo (mental illness), these women writers share colorful, intense, and engaging adventures that range from Los Altos to Toronto to Chandigarh.

Title: Her Name Is Kaur: Sikh American Women Write About Love, Courage, and Faith, edited by Meeta Kaur

Recommended for: Everyone interested in South Asian cultures, women of America, and stories/perspectives you’ve never heard before.

Hey, what’s #ReadWomen2014?

In response to lots of disheartening statistics about the gender gap in literary publishing, zillions of people are posting their favorite women writers on Twitter.  I love getting so many great recommendations of what to read, so I’m joining the fun! You don’t have to have a Twitter account to browse what people are posting at the “year-long celebration of women’s writing.” 

Logo of #ReadWomen2014 with five women authors