Poetry Professor Sally Keith’s latest book of poems, Two of Everything, was published by Milkweed Publications late last year. Matthew Zapruder, author of Story of a Poem, called it “a marvelous and singular book: of love lyrics, narratives, conversations, fables, aphorisms, abandoned drafts, journal entries of everyday family life, all permeated by the strange and symbolic, all woven together in a beautiful fugue.”
In addition to Two of Everything, Keith is the author of four previous collections: River House (Milkweed, 2015), The Fact of the Matter (Milkweed, 2012), Design, winner of the 2000 Colorado Prize for Poetry, and Dwelling Song (UGA, 2004). She has also published individual poems in journals including The Colorado Review, Conjunctions, New American Writing, and A Public Space. Additionally, Keith has been awarded fellowships to the BreadLoaf Writers' Conference, a Pushcart Prize, and the Denver Quarterly's Lynda Hull Award.
In our “Five Questions” feature, Keith has shared some thoughts on poetry, teaching, and more.
How does Two of Everything build on or diverge from your other books of poetry? How is it informed by them?
As I fear I may have narrated, ad nauseum, the largest change in my writing happened in the writing of River House, the collection before Two of Everything, an extended elegy for my mother. Looking back, I figure it was the power of the loss that put me in a position to want to speak differently, more directly. The feeling was in no way mysterious; it was everywhere, and it got on everything. I was surprised by the book and, to be honest, it has been hard to write away from. Two of Everything is not a complete departure, though its aims are different. I wanted to extend my questions about lyric versus narrative writing and to write into the difficulty of family making, particularly as a queer couple.
Two of Everything draws on your own experiences as a parent navigating the adoption process—and the book description offers up the question “if and how poetry can carry us through such moments.” In an essay for Poetry Daily on Louise Glück’s “October,” you wrote, “I’m upset by the number of new catastrophes, how ongoing they are—according to the individual, our nation, our world, our galaxy.” How has writing poetry—or reading it—helped you through difficult times, both personal and societal?
I remember distinctly reading Joan Didion’s Year of Magical Thinking, written after the sudden death of her husband, and wondering how in the world she could write through such an experience. I mean, I took notes and wrote in a notebook—as is my way—throughout my mother’s fast decline, but I’m not sure it was comforting; I did the same during the years we waded through the adoption process. In both cases, the poems and book came much later. I like your question. I don’t know that I can answer it. I’m interested in the possible coincidence between one’s lived life and one’s writing. Why do people feel so differently about it? Where does one draw the line? In the end, I do think the writing has helped me—it’s like it’s been a response, an answer, part of the equilibrium.
As for poetry and the difficult times we live through as citizens, it’s much easier to talk about the power of the arts—in my humble opinion—when you don’t feel afraid for the country in which you live and for the basic rights of the people around you. At the present moment I am feeling particularly in awe of writers who produced great literature in the face of dangerous regimes—Osip Mandelstam, Paul Celan, Federico Lorca, Wisława Szymborska…the list is long.
One of the more beautiful examples of poetry holding space for shared experience was Kerry Folan’s work on a reading on the Eastern Shore: A Community Poetry Reading in Response to Violence. In Winter 2023, Kerry, Founder/Director of Shore Lit, suggested a collaboration with Poetry Daily; together we curated a list of hopeful poems to be read, and Kerry hosted the reading for her community. This is one way I do think poems can lift us up.
How does your writing enhance your teaching? How does your teaching enhance your writing?
It’s lucky to be a poet and teach poetry. There is no certainty as to how to write a poem or how to revise a poem—the conversation is new every time. What could be better? I’m buoyed not only by the work of reading and describing poems but also by the lives and intelligence of my students, companions in the journey.
As someone who has published multiple books of poetry, do you have any advice for any poets just starting out?
Read a lot. Read out loud. Find pleasure in your work. Find a community that allows and sustains your enthusiasm. Almost all the students I know who have persisted, worked hard, made space for their passion for poetry, have published books and found balance between writing and life. All our paths as writers are different and this is a good thing.
What was the best book of poetry you’ve read recently?
Catherine Barnett’s Solutions for the Problem of Bodies in Space! And lucky for us, Catherine visited Mason as part of our Visiting Writers Series. Also: my favorite recent novel is Garth Greenwell’s Small Rain, and my favorite recent collection of short stories is Paul Yoon’s The Hive and the Honey. All are highly recommended.
March 05, 2025