Jessi Peterson—poet, children’s librarian, and lover of landscapes—recently published Century Farm (Finishing Line Press)—a collection of poems which explores, among other things, the evolving rural world in the face of ever encroaching suburbia. The collection’s title is taken from a poem of the same name (available here), which placed third in Wisconsin People & Ideas 2011 poetry contest.
According to poet Max Garland, Jessi is a poet “who knows the names of things and where they belong…”. Poet Jeannie Roberts adds that Jessi’s work “embraces us with her tender renderings of animals, plant life, and of lost lives…”. We recently (virtually) sat down with Jessi to chat about her new work, the publication process, and the trickiest part about writing poems.
B.J. Hollars: What was the impetus for Century Farm? How did it take shape?
Jessi Peterson: So much of my writing is tied into the natural world, holding it high and hoping others notice and practice looking for themselves. When you know what a roadside flower is and when to expect it to bloom, you will notice when it is absent. Or suddenly there – when I attended one of the Guild workshops at Cirenaica and walked out along the drive I saw Deptford pinks blooming, which I hadn’t seen since I was 8, but still recognized. It only made sense to string the things I have noticed on the earth that I have loved, whether it be here or in southern Illinois. For me, the book both celebrates and mourns the world we are losing as spaces get built up, changing the norms and soundscape and eroding the ties between the natural world, the agricultural world and the growing demands of suburbia. The trickier part may have been the ordering of poems, deciding what chimes with what, putting poems written recently next to older poems and vice versa, back and forth until it flows. In my mind, at least!
BH: You're a master of rendering landscape on the page. Are some landscapes harder than others? Any tips for fellow writers?
JP: The old chestnut about writing what you know holds true for me – I think immersion in a space is key. I’m privileged to have lived consistently in one space for 40 years, to have learned the landscape as a child and to keep learning it anew every day. As a kid what interests you is smaller and less guarded – you can go anywhere that is interesting, whether that be through the swamp, down a cliff, up a tree or through a culvert. All of that gives you a very immersive perspective if you can hang on to it as a adult, although it’s been some time since I’ve tried wiggling through a culvert! Focusing on place encourages me to take the long view, to think about the land as it was, as it is and as it will be, and I am just a tiny part of that, so there is no room to be overly self-involved in what I write. I mostly want to make a little enclave of words to evoke a particular place or a moment, like a snow globe capturing time. What to feel about it slips in there sideways, maybe.
BH: How does place inform your poems?
JP: If this is a focus you are interested in, keep in mind it doesn’t have to be a giant space or a landscape with a big bang, just one you are in enough to know the rhythms of the space, to notice what is surprising and of interest. And read – get your hands on field guides to everything. Birds, bugs, wildflowers, rocks, mushrooms – all of it. Knowing the names of our neighbors, be they animal, vegetable or mineral gives you a really rich vocabulary to write from, but is also a kind of shareable magic and respect, calling our fellows by their names.
BH: Can you share a bit about how the book found its home with Finishing Line Press?
JP: I submitted the book to Finishing Line’s chapbook contest for women, which I think is open now! I didn’t win the prize, but was selected for publication. Finishing Line only does chapbooks, so they are a great place for shorter, more focused collections. Several other local authors have had their works published through Finishing Line and had positive feedback about the press. I was particularly pleased to have cover input – the cover is a historic plat map showing where many of the poems are drawn from.
BH: Can you tell us a bit about a particularly tricky poem? How did it find its final draft?
JP: All of the poems have been gone over a number of times and I’m sure each felt tricksy when I was messing with them, but the one I struggled with most is one that actually isn’t in the book but perhaps should be. I have gone round and round the mulberry bush with this poem and am not yet certain it is finished, but it’s time for it to be somewhere besides in my brain. The title is a thing my Dad used to say.
Want a sample of Jessi’s work? Scroll below for “Blue Bobbie’s”!
Blue Bobbie’s
Always the same answer
when I asked where they were going:
“To Blue Bobbie’s.”
Of course they went to the feed mill,
the bank, the laundromat. Still,
I pictured it, an ice-cream parlor
carnival, impossibly bright, loud
with forceful carnie patter from the
implement and seed dealers,
their voices like old roof slates,
charming, but with hard, chipped edges.
Our quiet, worn neighbors
held weathered faces silent
over fizzy, violent colored
ice-cream drinks.
A flashing neon, peanut-shell strewn palace,
presided over by a giant of a bald man
whose soda-jerk smile hung
in the calm cobalt sky of his face
like a lazy crescent moon.
A juke-joint only just across the creek
in the blue-green haze of possibility,
slightly west of my perfect, placid life.
Tonight the dog across the creek keeps me awake,
the convulsive laughter of his bark floating
on the cold, still night water.
I wonder if he’s at Blue Bobbie’s.