Sarah Frost is a poet whose work wanders through time and place, currently based in Juneau, Alaska. She has been published in Beyond Words, Last Leaves, Palindrome Journal and Corporeal literary magazines. You can find her on Instagram @fromthenotesapp.
Maria: Sarah! I’m so happy your poem found its way to us. How do you decide when a poem about grief, loss, or moving on is finished enough to let go of? Has your threshold for completion changed as you’ve grown as a poet?
Sarah : One of my favorite pieces of writing advice was from Megan Falley’s Poems That Don’t Suck workshop. She compared writing with abandon to “swooping.” I try to write like that when I can. There’s always a moment when I write that way when I physically feel myself make my point. I try to read my work out loud and cut anything that isn’t necessary to further that point. I want to make something small sound as full as possible, and once I do that, I feel like I can move on. Lastly, I have a few fellow poets (Annalise Parady and Anna Ty Bergman) who help me edit my work, and I’m forever grateful for their eyes and expertise.
Maria: Your poem begins in stunning sounds: “squid oil like the sea” is fabulous. What is the best craft advice you’ve ever received?
Sarah : The piece of advice I mentioned above has changed my writing world in ways that are hard to explain. I also love Maggie Smith’s idea of separating lines and making sure each line is necessary, and doing as much work as possible. Lastly, I think alliterative sounds are an under-utilized writing tool that adds so much power to a poem’s pacing.
Maria: It seems like there is an overarching sense of mortality in this poem. In what ways does the very act of living inform your poems?
Sarah : My poems are often a wander through a day or a moment. Times I want to remember, or times I can’t help but replay. If I’m trying to represent truth, I can’t help but mention how ill-prepared I sometimes feel for this phase of life and the unexpected grief it contains. I live close to a moody, mountain beach in Alaska, and I walk my dog there most days. She’s the entire throughline to my adult life, and sometimes when I watch her sprinting, I’m overwhelmed by how fleeting beauty is. I know that’s what makes it so precious, but there really never is enough time.
Maria: I always ask this question because I find the answers so interesting. Many poets experience physical feelings when they read a good poem. Emily Dickinson famously said she feels like the top of her head is coming off. What physical sensations happen to you when you read or write a good poem?
Sarah : It’s a heart-full feeling for me. Like it’s finally full of blood, and life, and ready to keep going.
Maria: Thank you so much for giving us the honour of publishing your work. Tell us where we can find you, say hi, and read more of your work!
Sarah : It’s such an honor to be published here! Gather has meant so much to my writing practice, and I’m so grateful for the recognition. My Instagram is @fromthenotesapp. Thank you!
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Lots of love,
EIC and Founder of Gather
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