Voice of Conscience | Poet Laureate Susan Dingle - 📍 Washougal, WA

Susan Dingle, the Clark County Poet Laureate, is a firecracker of a personality. In this conversation, we cover everything from the first poem she ever wrote as a child to her gauntlet to all of us to pick up a pen and paper and write the poem we have inside of us.

👀 For more info about Susan, visit the episode page.

🎉 This episode also celebrates Fourth Plain Forward, Friends of the Carpenter, and Poetry Street PNW.

🎧 Other episodes you might like:
- Poetry as Radical Resistance: Ghost Town Poetry
- A Tiny Creative Revolution on Main Street: Couve Zine Swap

Transcript

Adriana: 0:49

Sometimes I have somebody on the podcast that everybody already seems to know, and today's guest is one of those people. I'm talking to Susan Dingle, the Clark County Poet Laureate. Susan hasn't lived here for all that long, but she's had an outsized influence on our literary community, and you've probably seen her at events or festivals or even at the State of the City Address when Mayor Anne invited Susan to write an original poem about Vancouver and present it for all of us. Susan teaches poetry workshops at Cascades Community Library and hosts the monthly Poetry Street PNW open mic on the fourth Wednesday of every month at the Camas Public Library. Susan makes sure that everybody knows that they are welcome. Everyone is welcome at everything she does. Susan is a firecracker of a personality, and in this conversation, we cover everything from the first poem she ever wrote as a child to her gauntlet to all of us to pick up a pen and paper and write the poem we have inside of us. She also reads some of her own original work. Okay. Enjoy. Welcome to I'm Into This Place, your deep dive into the local arts, culture, and heritage of Clark County. From fabulous new restaurants to quirky art installations to the historical sites you never even knew to look for, we're inviting you along. Whether you're a Clark County connoisseur or just starting to get to know her, get ready to fall head over heels for this place we call home. I'm your host, Adriana Baer, and I'm into this place. Let's go. I wanna talk about you as a young person discovering yourself as a writer. What is your earliest memory of writing?

Susan: 2:55

My very earliest memory of writing isn't, like, physically writing. It was this poem that I created when I was, like, I don't know, a child And, um, I thought it was a really great poem. Um, it went like this,"Cricket, cricket on the wall. Cricket, cricket, I hear you in the hall." And that was but the beginning of a poem that went on and on and on. I don't remember anything more about it, but I thought it was fantastic.

Adriana: 3:41

Well, yeah. You weren't wrong.

Susan: 3:45

But then I developed in school, I, I, I hated poetry.

Adriana: 3:50

Hmm.

Susan: 3:51

And then I had a teacher who took that as a challenge, and she introduced me to reading poetry. The first poem that we read, I, I was in, like, 10th grade, it was this poem by Edgar Allan Poe called Ulalume.

Adriana: 4:12

Ulalume? Wow.

Susan: 4:15

Shelley and Keats she introduced me to."O Wild West Wind, thou breath of autumn's being." Hmm. Oh, man, I was completely hooked. She got me into the level of the line and listening to the sounds and how the sounds connected with each other, and it was, like, really amazing. And then I was completely hooked. I started reading e.e. cummings, and those were the days, in the'60s, when there was only one female poet, and that was Emily Dickinson. Hmm. And then all the other poets were white men. And there were, like, Yeats and Eliot and Dr. William Carlos Williams, and I was gone. So in high school, my friend Donna and I would be exchanging stories between classes. Like, in class, we'd sit there like we're taking notes madly, but we're actually writing the latest episode of our ongoing epic story about a character that was based on the headmaster's niece, who was, like, an impossible goody-goody, and we would make up these adventures for her that were, like, gruesome. And, and then between classes we'd switch and we'd pick up each other's story and keep going. So that was a first kind of writing that I… It was really fun. And, um, but then, I don't know, like, I b- began to be, like, experiencing all the sort of teenage stuff. And I wrote this poem that was called Caterpillar Days, and I still remember lines of it. It was actually quite a beautiful poem, and these are some lines of it: High on a branch, easy in the mulberry tree, I accept beginning and betraying. Shaped by days, I live by caterpillars' ways. I leave only an outline, the lacework of despair.

Adriana: 6:29

Wow.

Susan: 6:30

The poem was longer, but those were some of the lines. Don't know where it came from. So that's the thing, is you write a really good poem, you don't know where that came from.

Adriana: 6:43

Yeah.

Susan: 6:44

I feel as though it's theological, right? It's like, it's this conversation God is having with us, that we apprehend it in poems. And, um, so I started taking writing classes in college as an undergraduate, and in those days, it was widely believed that women were incapable of writing good poetry. Mm-hmm. Or good anything else for that matter. And so I was always the only female in the class of writers, which is like, really?

Adriana: 7:18

Mm.

Susan: 7:19

But a lot of my experience was not being seen, or by, uh, being seen as what I appeared to be.

Adriana: 7:28

Yeah.

Susan: 7:29

But not really being seen for who I really was. So I, I've always had that disconnect. So behind that disconnect, it was like, in poetry I could say what was really so for me. So as a result, probably a lot of my early poetry no one could understand.

Adriana: 7:50

When was it that you actually called yourself a poet or called yourself a writer?

Susan: 7:55

I suspected I was a writer from around high school, but it wasn't until I graduated from college. I had won a couple of literary awards and whatnot, and I had become very obsessed with poetry, and I did say that I was a poet. And my father said, "You'll never make a living writing poetry." And I re- I didn't care. Like, eh, so what?

Adriana: 8:23

Yeah. So you're at the end of college, you're a writer now, and now I'm gonna fast-forward like a billion years.

Susan: 8:31

Okay.

Adriana: 8:33

Because I wanna know what your writing practice is like. This is a question I have a lot for writers.

Susan: 8:37

Oh, this is, this is- Yeah … my writing practice.

Adriana: 8:39

Yeah, tell me.

Susan: 8:40

Okay. I am a complete nerd, okay? I love to write the most. That's what I like to do the most. You know, like forget gardening or any of those activities. Like, forget it. I really like to write, and so I have a lot of different practices. I can write for hours.

Adriana: 9:04

And do you mostly write poetry, or do you also write-

Susan: 9:08

I write-… Adriana: other stuff?… Susan: everything. I write everything. My mind is very fluid.

Adriana: 9:15

Mm.

Susan: 9:16

And I can go from, like, some theological thoughts to something really stupid. What is the through line? Trying to be really truthful about what's important in the moment.

Adriana: 9:34

You talk about writing as a way to build community and also create social justice or bring up social justice- But there's this- … or talk about it… Susan: th- a s- a step Mm-hmm … okay? Because the first thing that happens is the writer discovers they have a voice That's where it begins. I have a voice. I am putting this on paper and, and I'm present. And then the next thing that happens is I share that with you. Then it turns out you have a voice also. So a couple of friends of mine who were both poets and also in recovery, we started a writing workshop for people who were in substance abuse recovery. We would give them various prompts, and they would write and, and we would have them read their work. And before they read, they would say, "My name is so and so, and I am a writer." Hmm.

Susan: 10:36

And then they would read their thing. And it was just so wonderful 'cause they're used to like, "I'm a, I'm an alcoholic," "I'm a drug addict." They… all that kind of thing. But to say, "I am a writer," like this is a statement of who you are that gives you power. And so I thought, be so cool to have some kind of an open mic where folks in recovery could come and read their work. And, um, that was how Poetry Street got started on the East End of Long Island. It was a public arts project that the town of Riverhead, the East End Arts Council, put out a call for public arts projects that would enhance downtown Riverhead, and I thought of this poetry reading. And then I realized that if I started a poetry reading, the only people that would come would be people that look like me. And there were all these Black folks in Riverhead, and I knew they're not gonna come. Why would they come? Unless they felt represented too. So I, I reached out to a Black poet whom I had met, who has become a very good friend. And, uh, in 2014, we created Poetry Street. His name is Robert A. Brown, known as Bubby. So Bubby and I created Poetry Street, and it became the room without a roof where every voice is heard. It's still ongoing every month at the Riverhead Library.

Adriana: 12:12

And then you brought it here.

Susan: 12:13

So the thing is that we saw that this creates community because people are now able to share on something that is personal and deep for them, and they can see how it's landing for somebody else from some other culture. And now we've got something going on. This is a community. So that when individuals in a community discover their voice, it just gets gorgeous. It really does. That's what it's all about for me, is to create opportunities for people from different cultures to experience each other's voices. I want poets to encounter people whose background is way different than theirs.

Adriana: 13:03

You are our current poet laureate of Clark County. What does it mean to be the poet laureate?

Susan: 13:08

First of all, that question will be answered differently by everyone who has been a poet laureate. For me, it means that my voice gets to be like a witness of what's going on.

Adriana: 13:27

Mm.

Susan: 13:28

It's changed a little bit now because there's more to be witnessing. There's more to be speaking out about. I think poets are voices of conscience. Like, why would you write poetry if you're not gonna tell the truth about what's going on?

Adriana: 13:47

Mm.

Susan: 13:48

And to be really present in the moment and tell the truth about it in a way that expresses the love of people, the love that God has for everyone. Because even if people are, like, going off the deep end and doing stupid, bad things, God still loves them anyway.

Adriana: 14:12

Mm.

Susan: 14:13

And we're taught in all our, in all our major religions, we're basically taught to love our neighbor as ourselves, and some religions go so far as to say that we should also love our enemy. And so I feel as though, like, there's that component of being a poet laureate, that you, you stand for something, that you create a space where all the voices are welcomed. all the voices of all the different cultures and peoples and generations and experiences. So we create events where people get to write or people get to, to read or whatever, and that they know that their experience is valued. I do a workshop at Cascades Park Community Library on the third Saturday of the month, and people, all kinds of people just come and they don't necessarily think of themselves as a writer or a poet or whatever, but they just wanna come and write something. And it's so beautiful to be able to help people see themselves as creative people. Like, yes, you are a writer. You just sat down and wrote a thing. You're a writer.

Adriana: 15:35

What do you think are the responsibilities of artists in times like these?

Susan: 15:43

Oh, yes. The answer is yes. Meaning, number one, show up. Number two, be real. Number three, don't be afraid. Because, number four, God's got this. I would like to say that the most important poets are the ones who are kids right now. The children are gonna really need poetry because there are so many things that are threatening to take their emerging identities away from them. We need to encourage children to discover their creativity, their individuality, their own voice, and to respect it and honor it, and that's, like, the most important thing. Absolutely everyone who's listening to this podcast has a poem inside of them, and that poem is dying to get out. Whether you know it or not, whether you believe it or not, I know it's there. So let it out. Listen for it. It'll come out when you don't expect it. But that, that is, yes, that, that is a good message, that actually everyone listening to this podcast, you have a poem, and also, we need it.

Adriana: 17:27

Mm.

Susan: 17:27

We need your poem.

Adriana: 17:29

Mm.

Susan: 17:31

Can I read some poems?

Adriana: 17:32

Yes, please, would you? I would love it. Thank you, thank you.

Susan: 17:35

Okay, so this is a poem called, it's called Welcome to Costco. Welcome to Costco. You did not expect to leave with an understanding of America when all you wanted was reading glasses. Instead, you travel past buffalo plaid pajamas and TV screens, diamond bracelets and toilet paper, cubes of cheese with toothpicks in them, cellophane-wrapped Easter baskets, anything anyone would ever leave home looking for and wind up finding something else. Lego sets, white orchids, which will die even if you do place three ice cubes a week faithfully on their sod. A cart large enough for a family of four now dwarfed by a mountain of paper towels and other things you cannot live without and don't want to run out of, hoping this time it will matter what you brought home.

Adriana: 18:52

Oh my God, that's so good.

Susan: 18:56

And this is, uh, this is called Watching Hockey from the Bleachers. If you don't have skates on, if you are not padded to the teeth, you will be so cold you can think of nothing else. Beware the flying pucks. I only wish a puck would fly at me so I could skate and thwack it back. My limbs would fly in every direction, and my blood would course through every vein instead of slowly freezing beneath this blanket in the bleachers under this net that protects me from the flying puck. Then let me see. This is called An Invitation to Every Veteran. I heard a veteran in his wheelchair say when in church he thinks of fishing, and when fishing he thinks of God. I wanted to say, "Take up your pen. Lead us through what you learned the hard way, the bravery of being here with injuries, nightmares, and grief living in your flesh. Take up words now. Say what rages deep within, that wakes from sleep. Let your courage be expressed aloud, and we will share what no one will ever understand. Allow us to be with you, listening to what you cannot say, that there be healing in poetry as words lift trauma up to where we all can see it, and in listening, we are present as long as it takes hearts to break and heal anew until the joy returns of being human, being heard, being you. So may our work begin." Let us build bridges together, not knowing where they go until the power of the pen belongs to every veteran.

Adriana: 21:27

Hmm.

Susan: 21:28

Then I'd just like to read one more, okay?

Adriana: 21:30

Yes, please. Thank you.

Susan: 21:32

It's called Triptych in Graceland. One. The first day Graceland opens after the pandemic, the BBC anchorwoman announces, "Long live the king." I remember how much my sister loved Elvis long after I lost interest. His portrait on flocked black velvet above her bed, watching over her the last Good Friday of the 20th century. When her roommate said he heard her in there screaming at God and even cursing God, but I'm pretty sure God was with her that whole time, cheering her on. It's about time you go, girl, let it go. The shame and sorrow, rage so long devoured, now received by angels, blessed by seraphim. My sister's torment no longer silenced. Two. When I was 11 and she was nine, we were in front of the TV set watching Elvis Presley on Ed Sullivan, and both of us started screaming like teenagers on the show, jumping up and down, tearing their hair, and we don't even know why. When Elvis wails, flipping back his hair as it flies in his eyes, "Don't you step on my blue suede shoes," and he sneers at the screen in that cute way. His hips jerk, and we jump up and down, and our parents look at us like we're crazy, and we don't know why. In the backseat of the station wagon on long drives, we sing our song. Boom, boom, ain't it great to be crazy? We are so happy when we sing. We laugh and slap our knees. Silly and foolish all day long. Boom, boom, ain't it great to be crazy. Twins inside out and opposites compared and competing. One way or the other, we could never win. Boom, boom, ain't it great to be crazy. Our parents could never understand. Three. She died in section eight, not in Graceland, but alone like Elvis, a broken heart fortified and/or attacked by Coumadin, phlebitis, diabetes, obesity, alcohol. AFib on a gurney after the amputation of three toes and the scraping of gangrene, comforted only by a life-size portrait of the King on black velvet above her bed looking down, that gentle sneer. It took four men to lift her. 20 years later, as if there is a wrong I can right, I go online, reserve the ultimate $190 VIP tour of Graceland with handicap access for my sister, as if she needs a ticket when she's already there. I knew that, but I had to. Boom, boom. God told me to. Long live the King. Ain't it great to be crazy?

Adriana: 25:10

Thank you for sharing that.

Susan: 25:11

Thank you for listening.

Adriana: 25:13

Oh, what a pleasure. So, Susan, as you know, I always ask everybody at the end of every episode to shout out another cultural organization or arts group in Clark County so that we can share the love and uplift even more folks. Before you do that, for you, our listening friends, if you are not yet signed up for our newsletter, that is one of the best ways that you can help support I'm Into This Place. It's super easy. The link is in the show notes, and that way you can get special ticket offers, event updates, see photos and videos of our podcast guests. And when you do sign up for our newsletter, you help us grow and gain sponsors who support this free arts and culture content, so thank you for doing that. All right, Susan, what organization would you like to shout out today?

Susan: 26:08

I would like to shout out an organization called The Friends of The Carpenter. It is an amazing place where homeless people, school kids, and all kinds of other groups of people can come to learn woodworking and community. And it is in Vancouver in an old warehouse that was converted into the most incredible woodworking studio, and it's, it's just fabulous. It's been sponsored for years by the First Presbyterian Church of Vancouver, but it's very much its own thing. It's very much about partnerships with other organizations, and I am very happy to shout it out. Another organization which is beautifully uplifting communities is called Fourth Plain Forward, and they have wonderful events and classes that help people learn about cooking and about very many other cultural things. They sponsored a beautiful program inviting a poet laureate from another state to come and share poems about identity and connection, and it's, it's a wonderful organization, Fourth Plain Forward.

Adriana: 27:32

Susan Dingle, this has been just lovely. Thank you for spending time with us today. I just really enjoyed hearing all of your story and your thoughts and everything else.

Susan: 27:42

Thank you.

Adriana: 27:45

And now let's hear from you. This is our Community Voices segment, where you call in to shout out your favorites in local arts, culture, and heritage. Community Voices is sponsored by Johnson Bixby, Vancouver's woman-owned, women-led financial planning and portfolio management firm, helping you plan for and celebrate life's possibilities. Advisory services by Johnson Bixby, SEC registered, securities through Private Client Services, member FINRA, SIPC.

Guest: 28:16

Hi, I'm Amber Lynn Lane. And I'm Leonardo Lane. And one of the things we love in Clark County is that we have a chapter of the Oregon Repertory Singers Youth Choir. I have been a teacher and director there. And I am a student there. And I don't know, I love, um, singing together, and we are able to give kids, um, of all abilities educational opportunities in singing and professional venues and opportunities to perform at, and a chance to work with composers and premier their works. Uh, what's your favorite thing about singing with the choir, Leo? I just love the choir because it makes me have new friends and new opportunities. We practice here locally, and then we perform all over the region at really cool places.

Adriana: 29:11

We'd love to hear from you. What are your favorite spots in Clark County? Who really deserves a shout-out? Give us a call and leave a message, or send us a voice note via email. All the details on how to do that are in the show notes. If you liked today's conversation, check out our episode with Ghost Town Poetry Open Mic and Clark County's first poet laureate, Christopher Luna. That came out on April 7th. Next week, come back to hear from one of our community's biggest arts philanthropists, Heidi Johnson Bixby. And of course, after that, we head into our coverage of this year's Vancouver Arts and Music Festival. I'm Into This Place is produced and edited by me, Adriana Baer. Engineering by Shawn Lee Martin. This episode was recorded at The Sound Stage, the Northwest's premier voiceover and recording studio. I want to give a special thank you today to Annabella Hill. Annabella was our arts and culture journalism intern, and she wrote a number of wonderful articles about our podcast guests, including the article about Susan Dingle that you can find on the episode pages on our website. Annabella is an artist herself, and a passionate advocate for arts and culture in Oregon and Southwest Washington. If you're looking for a new employee, I highly recommend her. She just graduated from college, and she's totally awesome. You can find out more about Susan Dingle and about I'm Into This Place at imintothisplace.com. See you out there.