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Maggie Anderson
was born in New York City in 1948
to a mother from western Pennsylvania
and a father from West Virginia. Throughout
her childhood, her family maintained
their connection to the Appalachian
“mountain culture” through
songs, an interest in the natural
world, and visits to family in West
Virginia every summer. Anderson moved
to West Virginia when she was thirteen
years old.
Anderson’s poetry is strongly
influenced by the Appalachian landscape
and language. She writes; “my
work as an artist, as a poet, has
to do with language. And language
for those of us from this region is
a very complicated business.”
In her writing, Anderson examines
the separation between the exalted
language of universities and the more
familial dialect of her home. She
confronts people’s perceptions
by embracing her culture. Her mentor
Gwendolyn Brooks, first African American
to win the Pulitzer Prize notes: “Maggie
Anderson writes a serious, surmising
poetry, a poetry knowledgeable of
image and music, pieces of energy
on a taut string, and shining sanity.”

The author of four books of poetry,
Anderson is also a professor and director
of the Wick Poetry Program at Kent
State University in Ohio where she
edits a chapbook poetry series and
a first book series through the Kent
State University Press. Windfall,
Anderson’s latest book, is a
selection of poetry from her three
previous collections as well as new
work. As poet Yusef Komunyakaa notes:
“Windfall possesses
a huge, spellbinding, honed acuity
and aesthetic certainty. Always cutting
to the quick of modern flux, her poems
elevate the natural brilliance of
small things in our lives, urban and
pastoral, or at the heart of a shifting
emotional landscape.”
Poems
| Ontological
This is going to cost you.
If you really want to hear a
country fiddle, you have to
listen
hard, high up in its twang and
needle.
You can’t be running off
like this,
all knotted up with yearning,
following some train whistle,
can’t hang onto anything
that way.
When you’re looking for
what’s lost
everything’s a sign,
but you have to stay right up
next to
the drawl and pull of the thing
you thought you wanted, had
to
have it, could not live without
it.
Honey, you will lose your beauty
and your handsome sweetie, this
whine,
this agitation, the one you
sent for
with your leather boots and
your guitar.
The lonesome snag of barbed
wire you have
wrapped around your heart is
cash money,
honey, you will have to pay.
Self-Portrait
I was far outside the frame,
beyond
the pale, lost in the margins,
smudged
like a fingerprint and frankly,
nervous
about holding my own. I knew
what was coming:
you, toward me, your arms open,
preparing to wrap them around
my neck
with the clear determination
some people
bring to learning anthropology.
I was not
about to be moved, to be swept
off my feet
by your exotic bracelets. I’ll
admit
I sometimes incline toward
the minute particulars of a
scene
but never have I been undone
by a woman
on account of her accessories.
Until now,
when I come into the picture,
captivated
by black coral beads, the gold
wire of an earring,
the rustle of red scarf against
a neckline,
as this pull, this great tug
at my heart,
forklifts me into the foreground
at the center of a photograph
of empty beach, empty that is
except for
you, and pine and manzanita,
the silver rings and necklaces
of white surf. |
Interview
Five Questions for Maggie
Anderson
(Interview by Maria Villafranca)
Q1. What inspires you?
A1. I am inspired by the play of
words -- by language -- by other
poets, by world events, by eating
dinner, by travel, by friends, in
fact, it seems, by nearly anything.
I am engaged most fully by the places
where the idiosyncrasies of personal
language, metaphor, and voice intersect
with the constraints and challenges
of the public world. I like the
margins, the spaces between, the
possibility of moving back and forth
between the public and the private
world.
Q2. How have language distinctions
/ dialect played an important role
in your life and writing?
A2. I learned to speak two languages
growing up -- the language my West
Virginian-born parents wanted me
to learn growing up in New York
City -- the language of books, art,
privilege -- and the language we
spoke when we went back to West
Virginia in the summers, the language
of home. In my poetry, I have tried
to use both of those languages.
I am interested in how the rhythms
and metaphors of West Virginia mountain
speech can interact with more learned
language -- like the Ohio poet,
James Wright who used his knowledge
of the Latin poets to write about
"the river down home."
W.E.B. Du Bois writing of race,
speaks of a life of "two-ness."
There is something of this at work
when an attempt is made to move
from one class to another as well.
I learned to speak and, later, to
write in the dialect of my family's
aspirations for me, and I knew also
that this was not their language.
That tension has helped to make
my poems.
Q3. Who are you favorite
authors?
A3. Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman,
Gertrude Stein, Charles Dickens,
Jane Austen, James Still, Zora Neale
Hurston, James Baldwin, Muriel Rukeyser,
Lorine Niedecker, and James Wright,
among many others.
Q4. You've written about
the tradition of storytelling in
the Appalachian area. Do you think
of your poetry as telling stories
in similar ways?
A4. The tradition of storytelling
in the Appalachian mountain culture
is strong and vital to this day
and it influences my writing, as
well as that of most of my contemporaries
from this region. The impulse to
narrative in poetry is ancient.
It is a particularly public gesture
I think, to write a story in verse.
In contemporary poetry, of course,
narrative itself is questioned,
so any "story" becomes
a story about the story as well
as the story itself. In the southern
mountains, it is still possible
to tell a story about a bear, or
a flood, or a union strike as a
means of passing on information.
When this information is passed
on in poetry or in a ballad song,
it becomes a communal witness, without
irony. I imagine that some of my
poems tell stories in this way.
Q5. What will you be reading
from for your visit to Rutgers?
A5. I will be reading mostly from
work-in-progress, my new book, tentatively
titled, The Sleep Writer.
Many of these poems concern global
political events and how these intersect
with private dream states. I like
to read a variety of poems to introduce
an audience to the world I write
from, so I will read some poems
that emphasize mountain culture
and the intersection between it
and what is called "the outside
world." My more recent poems
make that intersection larger and
more common: the crevice between
waking and sleeping; or between
thought and dream, between trust
and terror.
Biography
Maggie Anderson
is the author of four collections
of poetry: Windfall: New and
Selected Poems, A Space Filled with
Moving, Cold Comfort, and Years
That Answer. She is the editor
of Hill Daughter: New and Selected
Poems by former West Virginia
poet laureate Louise McNeill, and
co-editor of Learning by Heart:
Contemporary American Poetry about
School and A Gathering
of Poets, an anthology of poems
commemorating the 20th anniversary
of the shootings of anti-war student
protesters at Kent State in 1970.
She has received awards from the
National Endowment for the Arts,
the Ohio Arts Council, the Pennsylvania
Council on the Arts, and the MacDowell
Colony. She teaches creative writing
at Kent State University where she
directs the Wick Poetry Program
and edits the Wick Poetry Series
through the Kent State University
Press.
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