From the March Issue, “Near Sonnet for S” by Kimberly Ann Southwick.
1. What would a far sonnet look like?
You would have to squint to see it. When you reached out, it wouldn’t be there. Maybe they write them in outer space. I can’t be certain.
2. How has running a literary magazine impacted your writing?
When I ran the poetry section at a bookstore in NYC, a customer would visit me there. He warned that editors tend to put too much effort into their journals and forsake their poetry. I found that I have gradually come to disagree. I don’t know if I would be so involved with my writing, or if I would feel confident sending it out, if I didn’t run Gigantic Sequins. In looking at others’ writing so consistently, I am constantly dissecting texts, what works about this piece, what doesn’t—and I do that with my own writing, too, now, instead of being selfish, like maybe I used to me, as in: this piece works for me so it should work for everyone.
3. Who would you say “I love you” to while standing on a ladder?
I’ve done it before. I might do it again.
4. Why did you only make this a near sonnet?
Sentence fragments: because complete sonnets (and far sonnets) are too hard, because language is imperfect and the sonnet is a perfect form, because it’s difficult to say more sometimes and less is often better.
5. Do you ever laugh at Christmas lights?
Not since I was a student.
6. How have you blurred a sentence?
Part of it is being a woman. Part of it is knowing your voice and your grammar. You can only do it right out loud. Double-checking and second-guessing all the time and knowing that you don’t mean it—the hesitation, it comes too quickly, naturally– your “I mean–†your “something like that–†you “just–â€. In an essay called “Collector’s Itemâ€, Joseph Brodsky writes, “’Something like that,’ she added, just in case, to widen the margin of error.†Something like that. That’s part of it.