Jennifer Martelli

Jennifer Martelli

is the author of The Uncanny Valley (Big Table Publishing Company, 2016) and My Tarantella (forthcoming, Bordighera Press). She is also the author of After Bird from Grey Book Press. Her work has appeared in Thrush, [Pank], Glass Poetry Journal, Cleaver, The Heavy Feather Review, Italian Americana, and Tinderbox Poetry Journal. Jennifer Martelli has been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net Prizes and is the recipient of the Massachusetts Cultural Council Grant in Poetry. She is a book reviewer for Up the Staircase Quarterly as well as the co-curator for The Mom Egg VOX Folio.

Interviewed by Christine Jones, founder/editor of poems2go

P2g: In “Pachydermianism” there’s an underlying tension (which I believe every good poem needs) between change and constancy. There’s the jewel that may change color… but never its shape. The elephant may change…he may be a cow. He may become a she, an African, lucky enough to have ears shaped like her continent. But she will never forget. Dare I ask, was this purposeful?

JM: Yes and no. It began as a poem about religion. I’m a superstitious atheist, but was raised in a religion, and I appreciate the rituals and mythologies, which are comforting still. So, I tried to “design” a supreme being: what would it look like? Choosing an elephant certainly wasn’t original, but I wanted the elephant to have meaning to me, all her parts. I wanted her to be beautiful. So….like any god, there would be shape-shifting with a constant core.

P2g: “Pachydermianism” is in long couplets, and “Miss Ice River” reads similar to a script. In other poems, such as “Festival of the Eclipse”, and “Dog Days” you utilize white space as part of your craft. How do you choose the container that will hold your poem, its shape and form?

JM: My default is writing in couplets, with longer lines. Usually, when I’m drafting a poem, that’s one of the first forms. “Pachydermianism,” since it concerned itself with transformation, was able to handle—or could be handled—in these longer, reaching lines. I liked how it read that way. But some poems, like “Festival,” seemed denser in their conception—I wanted the feeling of buildings, avenues, chunkiness. So, the form, at times, comes very organically, easily; other times, I’m moving things all over the page! I’ll talk more about “Miss Ice River” in the next question, but yes, it was pretty much dialogue (which is interesting, since the language was sign language).

P2g: In “Miss Ice River” who is the speaker signing to, and why signing?

JM:” “Miss Ice River” was one of those gifts. I saw a video of a man who rescued a deer from a frozen river or lake. The man was deaf and communicated via sign language. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I used his words almost verbatim.

P2g: Tell us about some of your curations with Mom Egg VOX Folio?

JM: Curating with Cindy Veach has been amazing. We’ve really taken the time to think about what’s on our minds and what might be on the minds of other women. So, our topics have ranged from body image to the #metoo movement. It’s fascinating to see how women respond in such different ways: the language and form of the poems is brilliant and smart. We hope that we’re showing a diversity of voices, too. It’s been a great experience organizing the poems: which poems should go next to each other, which poems speak, have a dialogue. We also choose the one piece of art—this has become my favorite part because we look for an image that encompasses all the poems. It’s the last thing we do with the folio. It’s like a mini-book. I love working with Cindy because she is so meticulous and smart.

P2g: You say “Without poetry, I’d just be sitting on a barstool, smoking, with a pile of scratch tickets.” Fortunately, you have poetry. How do you feel lucky?

JM: I was able to find a supportive community of writers, first when I lived in Cambridge, and then almost two decades later, up here on the North Shore. I can’t write outside of a community, so in that way, I was lucky. Alone, I have no real way of accessing the part of me that creates. I’m not interesting, engaging or creative on that barstool, believe me!

P2g: In other interviews, you’ve spoken of your appreciation of Bishop’s , also Marie Howe’s ability to speak directly to the reader. Are you thinking of the reader when you write a poem?

JM: I do think of the reader. I want to convey something to somebody; if not, why bother? For me, that doesn’t always mean crystal clear narrative poetry; but I’d like to have my poems speaking to someone, preferably, the reader. I love that about Bishop: read “Poem” or “The Waiting Room.” You can hear Marie Howe do that, too, especially in her latest book, “Magdalene” and in “What the Living Do.” They’re talking to me, to you, whomever is reading. I admire the confidence that someone is reading, listening, to their experience. There’s a mutual respect, almost a compact between the speaker and the reader.


Kevin McLellan

Photo on 12-5-16 at 8.29 PM #3

is the author of Ornitheology (The Word Works, forthcoming, 2018),  Hemispheres (Fact-Simile Editions, forthcoming, 2018), [box] (Letter [r] Press, 2016), Tributary (Barrow Street, 2015), and Round Trip (Seven Kitchens, 2010). He won the 2015 Third Coast Poetry Prize and Gival Press’ 2016 Oscar Wilde Award, and his poems have appeared in numerous journals including: American Letters & Commentary, Colorado Review, Crazyhorse, Kenyon Review, West Branch, Western Humanities Review, and Witness. Kevin lives in Cambridge MA. His poem, “Dear Canaries”, is featured in the Fall Quarterly of poems2go.


Interviewed by Christine Jones and Sarah Lain, editors of poems2go.


P2g: What role does the artist/poet have within our society?

KM: I can only speak for myself. My responsibility as a poet and artist is to explore and/or challenge my understanding of what it is to be human within language and within imageeven if abstract, in such a way that the language itself shepherds (me) to discovery.

P2g: How do you view poetry today, specifically how it is written and how it is received, compared to when you first starred writing?

KM: I had a limited understanding of poetry as a younger writer. Later, as a second year graduate student, I began to appreciate other kinds of poetry by reading poetry I thought I didn’t like and/or couldn’t understand—learned to traverse through a poem. This ongoing investigation has informed my writing.

P2g: What books are currently on your nightstand?

KM: Perhaps it is because I don’t have a nightstand that I’ve been returning to the attic and the basement? James Schuyler. Sylvia Plath. Hans Faverey. Though I’ve been also reading some Danez Smith poems online.

P2g: How has your poetry been influenced? Can you point to a specific poem of yours as an example?

KM: I’ve been influenced by many poets, though also by fiction writers and playwrights (namely Blanchot and Beckett), filmmakers (Buñuel,Iñárritu, Lanthimos, and Malick), and other artists too.

There are a handful of direct tributes to some of these influences in Tributary: “Form” to Jorie Graham, “Astral Beach” to Hans Faverey, and a few others. Tributary is available here: or

There are also few poems in my forthcoming book, Ornitheology (the Word Works, 2018) that honor Sylvia Plath and James Schuyler.

P2g: What was your inspiration for “Dear Canaries”. And why canaries?

KM: I get hung-up on the word “inspiration,” but I digress.

There was a time when I had the responsibility of taking care of two yellow canaries. One of them taught me joy (imagine: you’re taking a shower with the bathroom door open—the steam reaches a large bird cage holding two yellow canaries and each time you shower the same canary sings a pleasant song) and the other one taught me patience. They would eventually die—first the singing one and then the cranky one who I would learn to love—which prompted the writing of this poem.

 P2g: When teaching students, what is the biggest take-away you hope they have?

KM: That they know how to better listen to themselves and consequently their poems, and the realization that their language has reached beyond the page and into the minds and hearts of others. Yes, this is intimacy.

P2g: Poems2go is an up-and-coming publication, and it means a lot to us to include work of established poets like yourself. Can you talk about another rising poetry project you’re rooting for and why?

KM: There are many poetry projects, journals and presses, some up-and-coming and others established, that have been considerably supportive of my poetry and I would like to acknowledge them here: Apple Valley ReviewBarrow Street, Barrow Street Press, Café ReviewColoradoReview, Fact-Simile Editions, Gazing Grain, Gival Press, Interiminter|ruptureThe Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Letter [R] Press, Midway JournalThe Ocean State ReviewRight Hand PointingRuminate, Seven Kitchens, Sixth FinchSmall Po[r]tions, Split This Rock, Sugar House ReviewSuperstition ReviewThird CoastThrush Poetry JournalTown Creek PoetryWest BranchWestern Humanities Review, and The Word Works.

(The criteria for the above list: presses that published my work; selected journals and presses that awarded or nominated my work; and journals that published my writing more than one time.)

P2g: Consider the current poetry landscape, from journals to social media to readings to MFA programs. If you could point to one specific element of the poetry landscape, and say: “This is my dream for this one part of the landscape,” what is that dream and how do you see yourself contributing to it as a poet?

KM: I have taught at a juvenile detention center, the Cambridge Center for Adult Education, out of my home, the University of Rhode Island, and as a guest poet at the Solstice Low-Residency MFA in Creative Writing Program at Pine Manor College. I am waiting for an opening at a suitable school, program or university.

P2g: How have you surprised yourself as a poet, or how have your poems surprised you?

I am surprised when I have moved out of a poem enough, enough so that the poem’s transformative needs are clearly visible within (instead of asserted by me). If I have not made a surprise within my own poem, or a poem written by someone else, then the poem has failed. I’ve mostly written failed poems, including most of my published ones.