Your cart is currently empty!
Tributaries: Carol Krause + A Bouquet of Glass
The poems in Carol Krause’s debut poetry collection, A Bouquet of Glass (Guernica Editions), are the extra-ordinary stories of a poet living with a naturally psychoactive mind and a life-altering disability. In today’s featured poem “Inside, Outside,” she observes those sensitivities taking on a global tenor during the early days of the pandemic.
Read “Inside, Outside”
from A Bouquet of Glass
Inside, Outside
If I could learn to habituate, it would be easier to cross the street. I would have a layer over my flesh that says, This is outside, this is inside. When I looked at the sign on the subway car, it would seem perfectly insignificant. The eyes on the faces of strangers would not pop out at me. Everything would be equally devoid of meaning. I would sit there on my little red seat, music in my ears, and the world would not bang along with its giant drum. And when I headed home, I would be protected from the salience of a cardboard box on a front yard. I would not particularly care that the box was filled with toys that had been chewed by a toddler and grasped by a five-year old. And when I was mindful, as I would try to be, each breath would plummet into oblivion, sliding away from me into the already gone place I rarely think of. And I would not notice the tempest from the other world. And the invisible hands upon my shoulders would be forgotten in the midst of the next project. It would be good to be alive, because it would be quiet. And I would carry on with my life, doing the things I am expected to do. Meeting people at parties and writing my name next to my profession. I would be considered healthy and well-adjusted, because I would not feel the cries of the world deep within my flesh. My psychiatrist would say, You are doing well. I would score low on every deviance test, and the label behind my name would be crossed out in yellow ink. This seems like something to strive towards.
I practice separating inside, outside by sitting beside a stranger on the streetcar. Teach me your ways, I say. But he does not notice, as he digs his fingers inside his pocket, trying to find something that he lost. It is small and red and has four holes poked in the middle. A button, perhaps? I tap his shoulder, and smile. Is this what you are looking for? His eyes open into wonder, as they fill with button. I can feel him tremble wide open on his little red seat. I don’t ask what it is about this small circular object that seems to fit the whole world inside. It’s rather big, isn’t it? The button. He nods, his eyes fill with tears, and we agree it is best to exhale slowly and say nothing at all.
*
Ten months later, I exit the subway with a mask. There are no more parties, at least not the inside, inside kind. The salience of strangers’ footsteps sounds a global alarm. The danger of an outstretched hand now sanctioned by the state. While the masses ask for help. There are so many of us now. The maladjusted. And the cries of the world, well, they are harder to erase. She could be anyone, but she is not. She is unprotected, like me. Her exposed heart a safety hazard the world needs. We brush eyes on the stairway, and she feels me blush. I search for something to stand on, but fall deep into her gaze. The sound of her footsteps echoing against sound and shadow. I carry the memory of our silent collision inside me, as sunlight hits my eyes. She walks away, almost turning back. Her heartbeat quickening the space around her. Yes, it is, I mutter. Yes, it is very big.
An interview with poet Carol Krause
All Lit Up: Can you tell us a bit about your book and how it came to be? How did you come to write “Inside, Outside,” and how is it representative of your collection?
Carol Krause: My poetry collection, A Bouquet of Glass, emerges from potent altered mind states. While I write about experiencing a painful sense of rupture, I also speak back to a world that negates the value of sensitivity, expressing the value of having a “naturally psychoactive mind.”
My collection also shares a great sense of loss at the life I could have had if I didn’t have a life-altering disability. At the same time, I write about experiencing a vivid aliveness that opens me to the extra-ordinary. The poems in this collection reflect what I directly experienced, sensed, and concocted during this mysterious time. “Everything in this book is real, but not all of it actually happened.”
“Inside, Outside” is a poem at the heart of A Bouquet of Glass that expresses the difficulty and beauty of navigating the world in an altered state and not being able to separate “inside” and “outside.” It invites the reader into the precarious and vital experience of having an “exposed heart.” The poem ends with a sense of connection with everyone struggling during the pandemic, as well as a particular connection with a stranger who is “unprotected like me.” There is a sense of wonder at a world that feels “very big.”
ALU: Has your idea of poetry changed since you began writing?
Carol Krause: I don’t know that I ever had an idea about writing poetry. Poetry to me is about the urge to express the inexpressible, and I don’t think that has changed over time. Writing poetry takes me out of the realm of ideas into the visceral experience of being alive.
ALU: What drew you to poetry? What do you most value about poetry?
Carol Krause: Poetry just came naturally to me, like eating food or drinking water. Writing poetry has helped me through many struggles over the years. It has helped me survive. Not only that, writing poetry has helped me experience renewal and joy. It is my hope that my poems can benefit others who struggle, which is all of us some of the time.
I value the life that flows through and beyond me when writing poetry. I hope that my poetry can also help connect people with the life within and beyond them.
Carol recommends…
“A Note on Presence” from Jody Chan’s
impact statement (Brick Books)
ALU: Why did you choose Jody Chan’s poem “A Note on Presence” from their collection impact statement? What do you love most about this particular poem?
Carol Krause: I chose Jody Chan’s poem “A NOTE ON PRESENCE” from their poetry collection, impact statement, because for me it is an invitation to healing. It invites me to see the value in my life, and to hold my wounded heart as precious. I am comforted by considering the possibility that I am, like the speaker in this poem, “beloved.” I love the line “your life is not something that needs to be earned.” These are words I come back to again and again.
A NOTE ON PRESENCE
chapstick. new inhalers. jasmine tea, looseleaf
potted bluebell on the counter. though the path is
marked by muscle, by blister, blossom
by blossom, you will forget to number
your mistakes, the sibilant missteps
between narrative and memory. bless
the fables your told about your mother, the basil
keeping sunlight company in the windowsill. bless
the linden earning gold its name. bless
yourself at six. at seven. even if the panic bells
clanged and you never left home. even if
the clocks melted, the blinds wouldn’t
close. even if you wore your blouse
like a puppy’s mouth, open to the world.
you need not be blameless
to be worthy of this blessing.
bless the ballads filled with shades of blue. bless
the ballerinas leaves make of themselves
in November. consider it possible
that you, too, are beloved. simple as that.
that for someone in this life, you are a balm. a ballast.
before word or gesture, still a scribble
in your mother’s body, you chose yourself
and isn’t that a blessing
too. even if you can’t remember.
bless the blastocyst, bless
the silent labour of becoming. bless
a simple, honest slumber.
bless the night with no bloodlettings.
your life is not something that needs to be earned.
Reprinted with permission from Brick Books.
* * *
Carol Krause is a poet whose uncontainable mind often disrupts her plans. Sometimes this results in joy. Carol’s poetry has appeared in The Fiddlehead, Arc Poetry, and PRISM international, among other publications. A lover of the underworld, Carol feels most alive crawling through caves. A Bouquet of Glass is her first poetry collection. She lives in Toronto.
* * *
Thanks to Carol for answering our questions, and to Guernica Editions for the text of “Inside, Outside” from A Bouquet of Glass, which is available to order now (and get 15% off with the code TRIBUTARIES until April 30!). Thanks also to Brick Books for the text of “A Note on Presence” from Jody Chan’s impact statement.
Follow our NPM series all month long to discover new poetry or connect with old favourites, and visit our poetry shop here.
