H. L. Hix: The numbered sections in “Lovers in Anime” make me think of the frames of a film, and several other poems in the book make explicit reference to films. We sometimes speak of certain poetries as questioning (or pushing the boundaries of) genre. Is there any sense in which the poems in your book are questioning not only genre but even medium?
Karen Rigby: Film is poetic. Poetry is filmic. Both present moments with consequences (sometimes ambiguous) that tunnel their way inside of us. They entice with images. They glide between beauty and terror, the everyday and the imaginary. They traverse interiors and exteriors. Themes and grace notes. Color or absence. Movement and stillness.
Their creation demands an instinct for timing: knowing when to reveal and when to hold back. When to cut, follow, or depart from a line. When to repeat. Parallel. Twine. They may pay homage to others. They may also reveal flaws in post-production – sometimes, even the shadows of their makers.
In the darkness of a theatre, in the solitude of reading, there is a privacy enacted when the transport begins. One settles into. Because film and poetry each contain elements of the other, and embrace similar choices, when a poem reimagines scenes from a film, or transitions in film-like ways, it isn’t a test of boundaries to me. Boundaries are porous. The poem-as-miniature-film (or painting, photograph, song…) seems instinctive and natural.