Photo Credit: Robert Gazzale Barbara Tran's debut poetry collection, *In the Mynah Bird's Own Words* (Tupelo Press, 2002) was selected as a PEN Open Book Award finalist. Coeditor of *Watermark: Vietnamese American Poetry and Prose* (Asian American Writers' Workshop, 1998) and guest editor of "Viet Nam: Beyond the Frame," a special issue of "Michigan Quarterly Review" (Fall 2004), Barbara is the recipient of a Lannan Foundation Writing Residency, Bread Loaf Writers' Conference Scholarship, MacDowell Colony Gerald Freund Fellowship, NY Community Trust/Edward and Sally Van Lier Fellowship, and Pushcart Prize. Buy her book here. Some links to some work are here. 1. What is the first poem you ever loved? Why? I don’t remember the first poem I loved. I disliked poetry when I was younger. The way it was taught to me, it was something to be revered but not something that had anything to do with me personally, something placed high on a pedestal. Things changed for me when the poet Afaa Michael Weaver suggested I read Ntozake Shange’s choreopoem For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf. It was a revelation to me that I didn’t have to be a long-dead British man to be a poet. Obviously, I’m exaggerating, but judging from reading lists in literature classes back then, it did feel like poetry was a tradition so out of reach for someone of my background. 2. What is something/someone non-“literary” you read which may surprise your peers/colleagues? Why do you read it/them? The Economist magazine. The title is a bit of a misnomer. It’s a terrific news magazine that covers everything from the economy to the arts. It’s not that I need all these things under the same cover, but I do appreciate the fact that they don’t adhere to strict boundaries, which makes for more room for the brain to exercise. The Economist delivers the news with humor. The photographs that accompany articles are frequently puns that aren’t immediately obvious. As readers, we should be made to work. Isn’t the whole point of reading to exercise the mind? 3. How important is philosophy to your writing? Why? If you mean philosophy in the sense of pursuit of truth and understanding, it’s crucial. I don’t abide by the “Write what you know” rule. For me, writing is about parsing through life’s enigmas. It’s about mapping out what we don’t know. It keeps us on track as humans. 4. Who are some of your favorite non-Anglo-American writers? Why? Monique Truong, Saul Williams, and Linh Dinh. Monique Truong writes with the care, precision, and patience of a gourmet cook. She uses no extraneous details. Her words are distilled to their purest essence. She writes as if her words will save her. They save us. Saul Williams is a modern Shakespeare. He wraps universal themes in irresistible rhymes and rhythms. Just listen to his CDs. See if you can find the divide between music and poetry. See if you hear any hint of fear. A shortlist of my favorite pieces: Om, Grippo, Black Stacey. Linh Dinh gathers observations of our absurdity and builds a frame through which we see both our hopeless, squalid existence and a window in the distance through which we might climb out, both laughing and crying at the same time. 5. Do you read a lot of poetry? If so, how important is it to your writing? I suppose I read a lot of poetry, but it never feels like enough. There’s always someone else out there that I want to read, feel like I should have read already, can’t wait to read/hear . . . Reading other poets is extremely important to my writing and to my life. A good poem can remind you of the direction your life should be taking. It’s a huge load for a few words. But good poetry has the muscle. 6. What is something which your peers/colleagues may assume you’ve read but haven’t? Why haven’t you? Joyce’s Ulysses. I adored A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and, too, Dubliners, most notably “The Dead,” but I just couldn’t get through Ulysses. I tried. It’s been well over a decade. Maybe it’s time to try again. 7. How would you explain what a poem is to my seven year old? It’s a way of writing, using few words, to explain something that seems unexplainable. It can be about something that happened or something you feel. Sometimes you use the words to make music. Sometimes you use them to paint a picture. 8. Do you believe in a Role for the Poet? If so, how does it differ from the Role of the Citizen? No, I don’t believe in a designated role for the poet. The poet is only one aspect of a person’s being. Certainly, the different aspects can overlap, and one’s role as a citizen can influence one as a poet, but poetry must first be art. Otherwise, why not write an essay? Defining the imagination’s role is the same as confining it. 9. Word associations (the first word which comes to mind; be honest): Lemon**cello Chiseled**stone I**we Of**past Form**function 10. What is the relationship between the text and the body in your writing? Like the body, each text form has its own particular function. It’s very difficult for me to write until I know what shape the piece is supposed to take. Of course, the beginning ideas and words have to go down on paper in some form. But the more that manifests itself on paper, the more urgently I need to know what the form is. Each body part has its special skills. Yes, one can use the toes to pick something up from the floor, but it’s more natural and graceful (for most of us anyway) to use the fingers. If on stage you used your toes, the audience’s perception of the action would be completely different, which is fine and possibly preferable, but there has to be a reason for the choice.