Jane Springer, Associate Professor of Literature and Creative Writing, recently published a collection of poetry,

Moth

, on Aug. 7, 2018. According to the LSU Press, the book includes “shaped poems, prose poems, and poems with unusual structures” covering an array of themes. The description adds that while Springer’s light-hearted tone seems cheerful, she covers several serious issues, “including our destruction of the environment, the widening and divisive gulf between socioeconomic classes, and the further injustices thrust upon those already suffering in society.” She also centers much of her writing around women, and the role that mothers, daughters, and sisters play in reinstating peace and structure in a chaotic world. The description from the publisher concludes that this collection of poems “gracefully delve into the complexities of our lives.”

Professor Springer spoke with

The Spectator

about her inspirations, her writing process, and

Moth

itself.

What are the most prominent themes covered in

Moth

, and how do they differ/ connect?

Themes range from agency to surveillance and from musicality to extinction. I’m not sure how or if they connect except by virtue of time and place — this book was written between 2013 and 2016 — pre-Dakota Pipeline oil leak, but post-stock market crash and post-televised coverage of a number of police killings (Brown, Gray, so many more). While

Moth

addresses none of these head-on, you can feel the zeitgeist thrumming under it, I think.

What should readers take away from the serious topics covered?

J.D. McClatchy [American poet and President of American Academy of Arts and Letters] once told me he hoped my book “fell into a stranger’s hands.” I like the serendipitous sound of that — as though a connection might be forged by two who knew little of each other’s lives outside the realm of a shared book.

What inspired some of the poems you wrote?

Musically speaking — I had SBTRKT, Alabama Shakes, and Rihanna Gibbons on my playlist — some Zebra Katz, and a lot of James Blake. I’d just read

White Trash: The 400 Year Untold History of Class in America

, and I was working on a review for Kimbrell’s

Smote

. Wislawa Szymborska’s

Selected Poems

was by my bed, and I’d leafed through some old Adirondack camp guide books from the 1800’s — oh the list goes on and on. Inspiration, for me, depends on living in the dreamspace of art from many mediums. Every artist at the MacDowell Colony while I was there inspired poems via my witness to their films, installations, and compositions — and of course, the living beings I encountered at truck stops, in the woods surrounding — everywhere — inspired poems, as well.

What should readers pay attention to or look out for while reading it?

I don’t think two people read exactly the same book. Dad thought the raccoons in my second book,

Murder Ballad

, were a metaphor for him — but that may point more to his identification with the wily rascals than it points to any secret message I’d intended. I leave it to the readers/critics to sort out what’s worth saving for themselves.

What’s your favorite poem from the collection, or one that you believe stands out from the rest?

Many tell me they like the title poem. My favorites are ‘Lilacs’ and ‘Paper’ because they broke outside the collection’s formal logic into new territory, for me, as a writer — they anticipated the musical and psychic space I’d be writing from, now.

How does your experience as a woman shape the point of view of some of the poems?

I don’t know the answer to that question — not because there isn’t one, but because I can’t see it as well as folks outside me can. I do think it’s interesting to consider: Would I have written the same poems if I had been born in a different body than this one? Maybe. So much depends…

How long did it take you to complete

Moth

?

Lucie Brock-Broido’s [an American poet] ideal space between books is 7 years. Mine’s 5, but it took 3 years to write this book and a 2-year backlog at LSU Press helped me reach my ideal spread. More or less and I think all the mirrors in the house would break.