Ben Palpant loves, for reasons that become apparent in this episode. On assignment from the Rabbit Room, Ben sat down to interview a few poets. He enjoyed it so much, he interviewed a few more, then a few more. When he had interviewed seventeen poets, he collected those interviews into a book called An Axe for the Frozen Sea. It’s a fascinating look into the minds and hearts of poets who work out of gratitude, out of abundance—sometimes out of grief, never out of grievance.
Whether they're regrets or failures or inadequacies or those limitations that I wish weren't there. They're still there, right? But there is a truer thing, which is that the Holy Spirit is at work doing marvelous things through a guy even like me. And what can I do but say, Lord, thank you for that. Show me the next thing.
Welcome to the Habit podcast conversations with writers about writing. I'm Jonathan Rogers, your host, and a midsummer Night's Dream. Theseus, that paragon of left brain thinking, remarks that the seething brains of poets like those of lovers and lunatics, apprehend more than cool reason ever comprehends. He means it as a criticism. But the poets I know would agree with him. They spend their days reaching out toward things that cool reason will never comprehend. As hamlet told Horatio, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. The poet Robert Cording says that we live in a world that is untranslatable and unexplainable, but still intelligible. I don't know any better reason to write or to read poetry. Ben Halpern is a lover of poetry, for reasons that will become apparent in the following discussion. On assignment from the Rabbit room, Ben sat down to interview a few poets to pick their seething brains, as Theseus would have it. He liked it so much he interviewed a few more, then a few more, and when he had interviewed 17 poets, he collected those interviews into a book called An Axe for the Frozen Sea. Conversations with poets about what matters most. It's a fascinating look into the minds and hearts of poets who work out of gratitude, out of abundance, sometimes out of grief, never out of grievance. I always love talking to Ben Philpott, and I think you're going to enjoy listening in on our conversation. Ben, I'm so happy to have you on the Habit podcast again to talk about an axe for the frozen sea.
I'm so glad to be back, Jonathan. I am a huge fan of everything, the habit and everything. Jonathan Rogers. You're doing great work.
Well. Thank you. Uh, I really love that. An axe for the frozen sea. These interviews are so good. Um, how about you talk about, uh, where this book came from? What it is. What's this book about? And why did you put it together?
Yeah, well, I'm glad you really like it. Um, to tell the truth, Jonathan, I'm the most unlikeliest candidate to write this book ever. Uh, when I was growing up, I thought poetry was something for teachers to prank kids with so I could fail every quiz. And I thought poets were just trying to sound obscure and out of touch with reality. They just never really crossed the bridge for me. So as a teenage boy, I if you told me, look, someday you're going to spend your 40s talking to poets and even writing poetry. I would have just run for The Hills Called you a liar and other filthy names. But, um, here I am. And so the journey to that is its own story. But really, I give full credit to the rabbit room. You know, they had this idea. What if. What if someone interviewed poets for the Substack and asked me if I would be interested, and I said, sure, I'd love to do that. And then found three poets in my area. So Scott Cairns, Misha Willette and Lucy Shaw over in Seattle and drove over there and said, well, let's just take a crack at this thing. And I was probably in the second interview. So moved by the first one and so deeply enriched by it and then having it happen, the second interview that I thought, these are really, really special and it's not really because of me. Honestly, I feel like I'm swept up in something much bigger than me. It's really the gift of being in the presence of really thoughtful, um, perceptive and gifted people and then just asking the right question at the right time. So this book, I think we were probably halfway through. There are 17 poets, and we were halfway through it when Rabbit Room and I agreed that this this was a really worth putting into a book at some point. And I'm just absolutely gobsmacked that I'm the one with the name on the front, because this isn't really my book. It's it's all these really, really incredible people, and I'm just lucky to have been in their presence, honestly.
I understand that right. I feel like in this capacity as a podcaster. Interviewer. You're just teeing people up to to do great things. And so, um, I feel the same way about my name being on the podcast because it's the it's the the guests who do all the work.
So yeah, but it's it's such a beautifully humble place to stay. Um, there were times in the interviews, you'll, you'll you'll appreciate this when the interview with Li-young Lee was so multiple ones like like this, where I just felt so small in the best way possible. I just couldn't believe that I was that God had orchestrated things such that little old me happened to be the one. When all of these things are happening to these poets and and deep, deep conversations that I just couldn't believe it. I felt so small that I wanted to stay that small the rest of my life. It was that kind of small. Not like a deprecation where you're like, well, who am I? I have that Up funny, but it's really the kind of small that makes you feel like, okay, Lord, do this as much as possible. Use. If you're going to use me in this way, it's the the loaves and fish kind of moment where, you know, we don't know that kid's name.
But yeah.
I can imagine being that kid and saying, well, it's what I got. I don't know what you can do with this. And then to watch that unfold. Yeah. My goodness, that little boy had to have just been amazed, right?
It took a certain.
Amount of, um, naivete to hand over those fish, you know, and it took a certain amount of, uh, being out of touch with the status quo.
That's right. Well, and just the willingness to say, this is what I got, it's it's, um, you know, we want to be more than we actually are. So there's this temptation to grandstand a little bit and say, well, you know, I've got this thing. It's pretty great. But when you've got just this little lunch pail and you go, that's all I God, man. Jonathan. That's how I feel a lot. And I just feel blessed that God would multiply those loaves and fish. It's incredible.
Yeah. One thing I think about sometimes is the idea of, you know, one definition of the habit of a habit is the way a, a plant is inclined to grow. You know, a vine habit or a bush habit or a I can't remember. The other habits are. But anyway, you know, that habit is a limitation, but it's also a form into which it can grow into itself. And um, and so as you're talking about feeling small and, and, and offering what you have to offer, that kind of feels like, you know, you acknowledging that, that whatever limits you have are not failures, they're just your limits. And and thank goodness for limits that give you an idea of, of what you have to contribute.
Yeah. No. Amen to that. I, I don't remember who the French writer was, but they say he's the French equivalent of, Um, one of your favorites? Flannery O'Connor. Mauriac. Mauriac. He said, I don't I never picked my my color palette. It it's just who I am. Yeah. And I couldn't write something else. Even tried. Yeah. So those limitations, accepting the fact that I'm not Tolkien, uh, growing up in with such an adoration for Tolkien and Lewis and all these others and then, you know, working in the classical Christian school movement for the last 25 years, it's easy to start thinking, well, all the great works are, you know, long gone, all the great artists are long gone. And one of my hopes for this book is for people to realize, know that there's great work happening right now, really, really incredible work. And all you have to do is, um, recognize and this does take maybe a lifetime, but gradually accept those limitations. This is who I am and this is the these are the stories God has given me to steward. But this is less about the writing. Life is less about putting your name on the book, um, or getting some kind of recognition. And it's more about stewarding the stories and the gifts that God has given to you. I would even say there's a great pressure to find your voice, which I think is a bit of a it's misleading. It takes people down, I think, a wrong road, because then they try to find some great voice. Well, your voice just comes when you've written 1000 hours worth of writing, right? And often it starts by simply imitating the people you go, I wish I sounded more like so Lucy Shaw, for example. I remember reading her 20 years ago and thinking, my goodness, she's so she's so good and so thoughtful. But her prose was so inviting, so hospitable that I remember back then having no seed of an idea that I would ever write someday, thinking if I ever wrote someday, I want to sound like Lucy Shaw. Yeah. And that's all it is, right? So I imitated her in some of my early work and thought, how would Lucy say this? Yeah. Now she's in this beautiful book, and I got to talk to Lucy Shaw. How did that happen?
What are the characteristics of prose? Or for that matter, poetry that you find hospitable?
Well, I wish I had some great definition for that. A hospitable place to me is a place where I want to stay. What I don't mean by a hospitable, by a hospitable place, is a place that's simply safe or beautiful or easy. Because you put me in a hospitable place with people who I love. And they can they can tell me where I'm wrong. They can. They can point my flaws, and I'll accept them much easier because it's a hospitable place. So I think some of that is the art of world making some of that. But I think the majority of that is a heart posture. It starts with the poet or the author having a posture of hospitality and saying, I want to make this place welcoming, you know, the Italian word for stanza. This came up in Angelo Donald's, um, interview. In the book we talk about the Italian word for stanza means little room.
Really?
Yeah. I didn't know that until I'd read an article right before our interview. And I thought, well, Angela's work is, you know, these all these poets write very different styles. Some of them are very sonnet focused. Some of them are a little more loose, but but they're all very, very intentional about their work. And for each one of them, I can say I picked them because I found their work to be hospitable in some form. I wanted to stay in the poem as long as possible. And this is true of fiction too. The works I love the most, even if they're not a place I would like to go because there's so much heartache. Yeah, there's still a tone about it that makes me want to stay. And I think that begins with the author and the poet. I don't think it starts with saying, how do I make this place beautiful? First, it's a hard posture. Yeah. So there's a book. When I went to Kentucky two years ago called Unreasonable Hospitality by Will Guidara Jonathan in that book, I read that on one flight back. I picked it up at a bookstore there in Kentucky and read it all the way home. And I was not, you know, he's talking about, um, the story of how he went from wanting to build a restaurant to making one of the best restaurants in the world, which I would think means, you know, here are expensive, expensive plates and you've got everything's high end, right? Everything's got to be elegant. And the end result of this is he learned that you just have to love people and actually genuinely love them. And his restaurant is known for the way that they anticipate your need, love you and make you walk away going, gosh, I wish this night would never end. So if I I'm not going to ever, you know, make a restaurant like that. But in my own home, I want to have a tone where people want to stay, right? They just want to be there and they feel as comfortable as possible. And some of that requires really a real attention to the details. So yes. Should I have laundry on the on the kitchen island? Probably not. Right. But um, so if I were to take this for your Listeners, the writing that we do, all of the little details that we tend to forget matter like commas, grammar, the cover, the even the font size, all of those details that a publisher should care about. Those things are they matter. They you know, I love what rabbit room does the the work they put out an axe for the frozen sea feels. Yeah. Hospitable. Before you even open it. Yeah. And all of the attention to detail matters. But really, it's a hard posture, I think.
Yeah, I love it. Well, okay. A theme that kept coming up in your interviews that I thought might be fun to talk about is the idea of Abundance Overflow. Scott Cairns. Yeah. Yeah.
Talking about the little boy at the end on the front porch. Yeah. One of my. I have so many favorite moments in this. Um, every interview had its own surprise for me that I thought, oh, this is just I don't want to ever forget it. Scott was at the very end when he, um, we were talking about his poem idiot Psalm two. Um, let me turn to it here. Okay, so this is the last stanza of idiot Psalm two. He says, make me to awaken daily with a willingness to roll out readily, accompanied by grateful smirk, a giddy joy, the idiot's undying expectation. Despite the evidence. I wrote that down years ago in my journal. I told Scott that has been in my journal, and I look to it pretty regularly because the evidence, the evidence is abundant, that life is hard and the world is broken, and there's so much loss and so much to grieve. But if I spend all my time on that side of the ledger, then I won't actually fill up the other side, which is God's abundant blessings which smoke, smoke the other side of the ledger. And if I practice the gratitude on this side, then it puts perspective on the other side of the ledger. So I brought that up to him and he said, look, Ben, I'm just I wrote that poem for me, which is a common theme with all these poets. They're not really writing for an audience. They're writing for themselves. Yeah. Uh, he said, I remember being a little boy and we were. It was winter night, snow on the ground, and the family had to pack up. It was dark out, but being little, there's not much to pack. Yeah, he said. I went out on the front step and he said, I remember the crunch of the snow beneath my feet and he looked up in the sky was crystalline winter, you know, stars are so close you can almost touch them. And he can see his breath in the air. He said out loud, I love life. And, uh, he said, I just want to hold on to that. The older I get, the harder it gets to hold on to that. Well, that's so true, right? The older we get, it's easier to get bitter and remember all the hard things. But hanging on to that little boy inside of us. That little girl that just loved life. Boy, that's a full time job. Yeah, but that's part of the abundance. That's the overflow of the heart. And that little boy was standing in the overflow of God's abundant blessing. Right. And just acknowledging I love life.
Just that phrase. Despite the evidence. I think all writers need to have that.
Amen.
Written.
Yeah, it's not actually the you know, we tend to think, well, the reality is the world's broken. Well, that's true on the one hand. Right. There's a lot of things that, you know, Flannery O'Connor going back to one of our mutual favorites. She she shines a full on blast light on the reality of the brokenness of the human spirit, of the human being. But there is a break with reality when we forget what God's actually at work doing.
Yeah, that's true. And there's something a lot truer than the brokenness.
That's right.
I appreciate so many of these poets talked about. A lot of times it was in terms of gratitude, but getting in touch with what was truer than this evidence that we detect with our senses that things are pretty jacked up around here.
That's right. Yeah. You know, I think of Marilyn Nelson's interview at the very end of her interview, and this is a woman who's gone through so much sorrow, right? And, um, not just personal sorrow, but cultural, societal upheaval. Um, and at the end of her interview, she shared a story about crossing the street when she was a teenage girl. This little black teenage girl walking across the street and here comes this white man across the way. So this is in a time of a lot of societal upheaval, race, upheaval. And, um, the man's walking straight. They're going to pretty much bump into each other. And right when he gets to her, he looks her right in the eye and says, you are beautiful. And then he just kept walking. Well, Marilyn's never forgotten that moment, right? And which of us? None of us would. How many of us need that even to this day? The affirmation that you are a great idea that God had. And I'm lucky to just pass you on the street. Right? All these shining faces. I just wish I could hold on to that more often. Um, those are those little moments that God gives us if we have eyes to see them. and we need to actually cultivate those eyes that help us to see the truer thing. Right? Because I wake up and I look in the mirror and I go, wow, you're still here. And all of the things that, you know, whether they're regrets or failures or inadequacies or those limitations that I wish weren't there, they're still there, right? But there is a truer thing, which is that the Holy Spirit is at work doing marvelous things through a guy even like me and I. What can I do but say, Lord, thank you for that, but show me the next thing.
Mhm. Yeah. The poets you talk to are people who have practiced paying attention to those things. Yeah. Your subtitle is conversations with poets about what matters most. It's not just conversations about technique or or craft. These are conversations that reveal that the craft and the technique is a means toward abundant life. Toward. Toward a fuller, fuller life. Anything happen in these conversations to to change the way you think about everything.
That's every single one of the conversations. Yeah. I'm finding in interviews that it's really hard to actually answer that question because I want I feel like I'm cheating when I say, well, every single one. So I do need to pick, but it's hard to pick. And people who read the book are already acknowledging that each one has its unique thing that meant the most to them. But you know, on one level there is only one important. You know, if we were to take the subtitle and say, conversations with poets about what matters most, what matters most is Jesus Christ. But what I love about these, these conversations is that Jesus Christ went into every corner of of their experience and of their thought and of their craft. So he's not simply The Savior, Jesus Christ. He's the one who's changing everything, right? So what I tried to do with each of these conversations is read and watch all of their interviews, which with some of them is staggering because they've they've got 100 plus, um, so that I could ask them a question, at least a handful of questions they hadn't been asked before. And that's how I felt like I could honour them best. Yeah. And then try to figure out by reading their work and listening to the interviews, what are the things that matter most to them? So by example, you know, Robert courting lost his son and he wrote an entire book of poetry about that. I don't know many. Yeah, it's not like I know everything out there. But for somebody to be willing to sit in that space of grief long enough to write that many poems This takes an incredible amount of courage and strength of heart to stay there. Most of us would rather talk about anything else. Yeah, so I knew that that's the topic I wanted to talk about, but I wasn't sure he wanted to talk about. And what a heartfelt joy to sit with him in that space together and remember his son, and talk about the way grief shapes us and how he worked the craft, how the craft and his experience overlapped. Um, Dana Gioia for as another example, Dana Gioia is every every interview is going to talk about his cultural analysis or the essays he's written about poetry and his work in the white House. And, you know, all of those things are are an incredible gift to the rest of us. But I noticed that in all of his interviews, very rarely did a did his property come up his his acreage, and whenever it did, it was for basically a sentence or two. And I heard or read a, a different kind of Dana Gioia. And it seemed to me that this was a missed opportunity for these interviewers. They were so dead set on their own questions that they weren't actually listening to the thing that moved him most. So it was a little risky for me to say, I know that what I should be asking you about is all of this great, all these great accomplishments and your thoughts on the current state of poetry and but are you okay if we talk about your acreage? And he was so lit up by that that it confirmed this really did shape him. He said his acreage has had an outsized influence on his life, and nobody really knows that because they think it's all this other stuff? But what really moves Dana Gioia is that acreage. And I think each of these interviews has that kind of humanizing deep spot where we were able to touch on something that really mattered to them most. And that's why I chose that subtitle. It just felt like it covered the heart of each of these conversations.
Yeah. To return to Robert Korting for a minute, I didn't know Robert Korting until I read his interview here, and it was just amazing to know that a man who lost his son, you know, can say something like, like this at the heart of life is the choice to embrace God's work, even at great personal cost. My work as a poet, my relationships, my daily decisions depend upon embracing the God who makes and will always make as an overflow of love.
And yeah, Jonathan, that that was both convicting and motivating at the same time, because We live in a world that is so rife with conflict that it's almost our only mode of operation, and we don't know how to actually create out of an overload or out of an overflow of love. But yes, God made all of this out of an overflow of love. We're sitting in the in the overflow of that. Yeah, great. Great blessing. And if that's true, then what am I doing? It was Li-young Lee who said that many poets, and especially American poets, he feels, start from a place of grievance rather than grief. Robert. Courting started with grief. Yeah. Grief actually is a is a in some respects a gift, I think, from the Lord. A way to handle the brokenness that is just part of reality. But grievance stifles creativity and grievance warps the end product. I think that what Robert has done has given us a great gift, which is himself in grief and grievance. Yeah, he is not coming to God. And, uh, saying this is a break from who you are as God. He's saying even the loss of my son as broken and heart wrenching as that is, even that is making something new. God is always in the act of of renewing and making something more life, not less life, and even loss like that. When we stand in, it feels like the floor has gone out from under us. God's actually doing something beautiful. Years ago, somebody told me, um, when I was going through my own health crisis, he said, Ben, I think you might be despising the chrysalis.
Huh?
That has stuck with me all these years. Don't despise the chrysalis. If you open the chrysalis where transformation is happening, you'll just find goo. There's nothing admirable about it. And in fact, if you try to let the butterfly out early, it's not strong enough to actually become this beautiful thing that we go, wow, isn't that lovely? So even the chrysalis, even that is God doing something out of an overflow of love? Yeah, I wish, I hope to hang on to that as a as a writer. And I think that most artists really need to fight for that. It's not something that will come naturally, because every single moment of every single day, we're barraged with the opposite.
Yeah. Something else that that Robert Cording said, um, that I'm still chewing on. And I'd love to hear you. You comment on it. Um. He says we live in a world that is untranslatable, unexplainable, but intelligible. When he. When I read that, I thought, that's where poets live, where the world is unexplainable, untranslatable. And yet they go in there anyway, and they give us something that's intelligible. And that's also why I feel like my resistance to that makes me feel like the writing of poetry feels to me like something beyond what I can do. And I think maybe it's because I want a clarity and a clarification that says, I'll translate something for you, and if I can't translate it, I'll do something else. You know, I'll watch TV.
Yeah, yeah. No, I totally get that. I mean, you're appealing to the little the teenage boy in me there especially. But, you know, one of the things I asked Robert about was regarding that specific line. He's not actually saying that there's no place for science or mathematics or all of the things that make this world measurable and understandable and predictable. All of those things are very, very beautiful to him. But but they have their their limiting threshold. They won't be able to actually take us over the lip into the spiritual realm. They help us understand what God God's fingerprint here, but there are limits to those things. And I agree, poets sit in that spot. It's a very uncomfortable spot to sit in where things are unintelligible. And I would say grief of all things, is probably, at least for Ben Pulpit, one of the least intelligible things for me.
Sorry to be technical, but they said it is intelligible. It's not translatable and not explainable, but it is intelligible.
That's right. But what I'm saying is what it feels like to me, and I sit in that space. He's confirming that it is intelligible, and poets create a kind of intelligibility to it. But even what I feel does not feel intelligible. When I'm in that space of grief. I don't know how to articulate that. So when Li-young Lee, one of my favorite of his lines, when he says that a poet. People who read poetry have read about the burning bush, but poets have to sit in the burning bush and tell us about it. You know, on one level, what a heavy calling, right? And Lee young will say this. You know, if he's sitting here with me, he'll say what he said in the interview, which is it's a very lonely place to be out here. He said, it's very lonely out here. Well, where is out here? Lee Young. Out here. Where I have to write this work. I'm sitting alone with God. And that's sitting alone in the boat with God. Even the disciples, when the waves are tossing. Even when Jesus calms the waves. It's actually scarier when you're sitting alone and you know you're sitting in the presence of God. Then when the waves are really pretty crushing. So I think Robert Cording is touching on the fact that that a poet's job is to take this space of our experience, which feels beyond our ability to put words to them and says, I'm going to make an attempt to put words to them. One of my favorite moments in that interview is when he says, every attempt at writing is actually a guaranteed failure, because you just won't actually put it down the way you mean to. Rich Mullins, one of his songs, he says, I'm hearing this song that I've heard in somewhere in my childhood. I've been chasing that my whole life. Right? Yeah. So I think that that attempt is such a worthy attempt, and one of my hopes with this book is that it would maybe remove the austerity called poets and poetry and make it what it was meant to be. You know, Shelley, Percy Shelley said that, um, that poet poetry is in our nature, in our nature. That means that everybody waking up into the world is a poet, because God is the first poet. So. And if Christ is the word made flesh, and we're made in God's image, then all of us, even those of us who don't, um, feel like we're quite at these poets level. We're all poets. So I think I'm hoping that it encourages people to just pick up a pen, because there's something wonderful about poetry that I don't know is true of any other kind of writing. But when you read poetry, there's a part of you that's that feels compelled to write a line of poetry.
Yeah.
And it's a generative art, so I love that about poetry. And I want people to feel that absolute freedom to go, you know, it's just my attempt, but it's your loaves and fish. So let's take what God gives you and steward it to the best of your abilities.
Oh, thanks for that, Ben, I love it. Uh, I usually end with the question, who are the poets? Who are the writers? Make you want to write? I don't know, it seems almost not fair to ask you that question at this point.
I think we've answered that.
Yeah. Right. Yeah, yeah. And I don't have an alternative question either. Do you have a what's what's an interesting alternative to, to that question, Ben, that you would like to answer.
What is the place, Jonathan, that makes you want to write? What's the place? One of the themes in this, in these interviews is playfulness. And whether it's Kentucky or whether it's California, each of these poets is accepting the limitation of place and actually embracing it and saying, this is where I am, this is where I'm from. And for me, I come from rural Africa. Dad was a missionary doctor, and I'm still that little boy who runs clay paths deep down in my heart. And so any place right here in the in the beautiful northwest out here that is quiet and has a lot of trees. Man, that I'm at home right there. But there are people who've who have never had that experience, who grew up in the city and love the city. Yeah. That's your place, right? That's your place. Right from that place. Embrace that place. And God loves to just multiply that because it's going to sound like you. If I try to sound like a guy who grew up in the city, best of luck. It's not going to work. But I can sound like me and I'm going to embrace it.
Great. All right, Ben Philpott, thanks so much for being here. This has been such a it's always such a pleasure to talk to you. And this is no exception.
I'm glad I love time with you, Jonathan.
The habit podcast is brought to you by the Rabbit Room, where art nourishes community and community nourishes art. You can support their work including this podcast, by becoming a member. Visit rabbit room.com/membership. Special thanks as well to Taylor Leonard for letting us use her song diamonds as the theme music for The Habit podcast. You can learn more about Taylor and follow her work at Taylor leonard.com. The Habit Membership is a library of resources for writers by me, Jonathan Rogers. More importantly, the habit is a hub of community where like minded writers gather to discuss their work and give each other a little more courage. Find out more at the habit.co.