*Antonia Alexandra Klimenko’s poetry collection, On the Way to Invisible, is now available at your preferred book retailer.*
There’s no denying that Antonia Alexandra Klimenko is a poet’s poet. By that I mean that she is more than a vessel—Klimenko is a mirror, one of the few who is one with Poetry. And, if you are ever fortunate enough to hang out with her, and listen to her expound on memories, paradoxes, mysticism and mysteries, you will notice instantly, in what she does and does not say, that you are witnessing Poetry itself communicating with you through her words, her recitations and especially through her Sigh. Hence, here’s one of those conversations we often have about the craft, the need to write and perform, the need to revise for decades if necessary, the importance of ceaseless transformation on the page, on the stage and, most importantly, in life.
Malik Crumpler: From the first time I saw and heard you read your work, I was overwhelmed by your descendance or, better yet, alignment with the classic tradition or oratory recitation of poetry, lyric, ekphrastic emotional and imagistic details. What or how did you develop such an incredible ability to recite, to sing and perform your poetry the way you do?
AAK: What a wonderful compliment! Especially coming from you! Whatcanisay…I believe that our first universal language is intonation. When we are first born, we do not understand words, per se, but rather, recognize the melodic tone and cadence of a thought that rides on the breath of spirit. The rhythm and musicality of the language has always remained with me, as have the images and symbols of life and their profound meaning. As a child, I spent hour upon hour daydreaming and imagining. Image-ining. That, coupled with the emotional intensity which I experienced both in family drama as well as witnessing in film and theater, served as inspiration. I repeat after me: practice makes more practice. Breathing out, breathing in.
Malik Crumpler: I know you took decades and years of meticulous revision, and performing the poems in the book. How important is revision for you and do you consider sharing/performing your poems publicly as part of the process of preparing/revising your poems?
AAK: Some poems I consider—like the offspring of most art forms—“easy births.’’ Others are by “Cesarean section.” The latter kind needs a fair amount of revision, attention and care. Primarily: thinking, intuitive re-thinking. Sometimes the first line ends up being the last…and vice versa. Lifting the words off the paper and allowing them to be airborne, to sing, as it were, is of great value. Sounding out each line so I can hear the cadence and rhythm. Sometimes a line is off by just one syllable and I need to choose another word to better express a thought. And, of course, in reciting the poems publicly, I have the advantage of being in the moment and guided by the resonance of the shared experience.
Malik Crumpler: You write with so many fantastical descriptions, so much imagery, personification and surrealism. Where do you draw inspiration for your poems? Who are two or three of your influences and how do they show up in your work?
AAK: From all that’s been created around me—music, film, books, art, Life, itself. As for influences, I would have to say e e cummings, Rainer Maria Rilke and Anne Sexton. The similarity with e e showed up in one of my very first attempts at writing. The line in my poem, “Remembrance,” “You are so near I cannot touch you,” was actually written before I read his work. But then, my line, “No one—not even the wind dresses in such fine splendour as I in my thoughts of you.” With this I’m somehow reminded of how the line begins in his poem, “[somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond]”: “nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands.’’ As for Rilke, I have an entire section in my collected works dedicated to The Voices. I so admire his spiritual influence, his capacity to empathize. You get the innovative, soft center with e e and with Anne Sexton, a little more of the confessional hard edge of my work, at least in some of my poems. I’m a Pisces, astrologically speaking, so I tend to like the full range of diverse genres.
Malik Crumpler: With regard to your background (apart from being a Pisces), how much of an influence in your work has your family and upbringing had?
AAK: Well, I had a profoundly sad childhood, which, when looking on the bright side, has helped me to be in touch with my feelings and emotions. If someone were to ask me how long I’ve been writing, I would have to say, therefore, all my life. Writing is an extension of thinking and we are in the process of writing even before the words are committed to paper. As well as having been influenced by human suffering—and I don’t say this lightly—I was also encouraged to be inspired by the arts. My father was an opera singer before cancer ended his career. He also painted and wrote poetry. My mother also wrote poetry and was graced with a poetic soul. So, with the family dramas—and there were many—I was immersed in memorable imagery and emotive sound and developed a very strong intuitive sense for the sake of survival.
All of this helped me to be more in tune with the Universe. I was also playing piano by ear at the age of six and, in addition, spent time singing and drawing. The amount and quality of thinking, sensing and imagining that the creative process requires is, what I believe, has saved me. That and empathy. Writing helps you to put yourself in someone else’s shoes. Prompts you to ask the question: What is the meaning of Life? And so, I attempt to respond. In my own small way…to make a change, a difference, to turn things around. I cannot help but be reminded by a line from one of my poems, “Heart’s Compass”: Dark knows we are afraid of it…wants only to be loved.” After all, don’t we all?
Malik Crumpler: I would say so. On that note, since you spent so much of your childhood living and breathing Art, when and what solidified your realization or acceptance, admittance or decision that Poetry is your vocation? Do you consider it a vocation or is it something more?
AAK: I never thought of poetry as my vocation until I began to look back on the years that I’ve written and performed for Spoken Word Paris on a weekly basis and have subsequently written a fair amount for journals and anthologies. I don’t think of it as a career, but rather, having “a strong sense or suitability” for the process. When I was in the States, I spent twenty-two years trying to help people find places to live. I was a realtor who specialized in the kind of rentals for which I received no commission, but only a rather base salary. I called it the “unreal estate.” In general, I feel I have a calling for trying to find people and words a good home. One of the reasons I am so elated that my selected poems have found a home with The Opiate Books. Words and people, all creative art forms, have always been my drug of choice. Moreover, I consider it a way of Life. My connection with Nature, with Spirit, The Divine Mystery—Whatever and Whoever that might be.
Malik Crumpler: You’re such a massive inspiration and leader in the Spoken Word community internationally, but especially in Paris. Did you always imagine or prepare yourself to be in this position?
AAK: You are too kind, haha. Sighhhhhhh. I have only and always thought about the work itself—the process, the meaning, the creation of art and expression. Growing up, I was painfully shy and never wished to find myself in any position of prominence and almost always preferred to remain rather invisible. This is one of the reasons my career as an actress was so very brief. On the Way to Invisible is a rather fitting title for my book for many reasons. But, of course “Invisible” also evokes Spirit so I feel I am always on the way to that “thereness.” I have been preparing myself my entire life, in that respect. The fact that I am present in the artistic community—that each week I try to present a poem or a spoken-word piece—places me in a visible position. It allows me to be an instrument for connection and shared meaning, as well as to listen to and be inspired by others, to befriend others…and for this I am very grateful.
Malik Crumpler: As one of the most unforgettable performing poets, do you prefer reading your work aloud or allowing it to live on in your book on the page? What differences, if any, do you recognize in your voice on the page and on the stage?
AAK: I am humbled by the thought that I am an “unforgettable performing poet.” Being (I would like to think) a mindful and sentimental person, remembering and being remembered has always held great significance for me. One section of my collection is titled Mirror with a Memory. Years after I titled it, I learned that this was the name they gave to the invention of the camera. Human beings are, after all, living cameras that record Life. And while I love to read a poem silently on the page and to ruminate about it, I also love the spoken word. After all, we are Living Poems…which is why being in the moment with the meaning of the words and in alignment with…connecting with an audience is like going to church. We feel the vibration of the words and the spirit that is breathed into it. It resonates and echoes throughout our life. I know it does in mine.
Malik Crumpler: Do you plan to record an album of your spoken word and piano, or perhaps an audiobook for On the Way to Invisible?
AAK: I’d love to record an album…to make a CD! To collaborate with two or three musicians…piano and saxophone for the jazzier poems, perhaps electric cello for some of the others. Charles Gosme, who plays the electric cello, is a marvelous improviser. We collaborated once at an event for The Opiate. Would love to, once again!
Malik Crumpler: How important has being able to perform so often with Spoken Word and other venues in Paris shaped the way you hear or write your poems. Do you ever write poems specifically for the stage/performance?
AAK: One of my pleasurable—albeit challenging—tasks as Poet in Residence for Spoken Word Paris is to write a poem on theme each week. I dare say that if I weren’t expected to come up with a poem in time (which I have managed to do for the last ten years), I wouldn’t write half or even an eighth as much! I’m kinda lazy that way. So, I’m very grateful to David Barnes, founder, host and dear friend, for inviting me to be a part of the organization as it has helped to shape my very life and has served as my prime motivation for writing these days.
Malik Crumpler: What theme or themes in your work hold the most significance, offer the most meaning to you?
AAK: First of all, the human condition from which anyone might draw a huge amount of content. Memory is another theme that surfaces in various mirrors of my reflection. I love, also, the paradox of life. The strength of vulnerability, the vulnerability of strength. How we are stretched, as Rilke says “between two poles.” The duality of Life. Sun and Moon. Left hand, right hand, within and without. One of my poems titled “untitled” tries to make reason of the rhyme and mystery with such offerings as, “I AM the light I’m buried in.” Also, the reflections in my poem, “Crossing Borders.” Here’s a sample from it:
Every day
I look for that Mirror
the one with a memory
to find my true reflection
Every night
I cross myself and pray
I make it to the other side
Who am I really? I ask
Where am I going
and how will I get there?!
I ALL map with no direction—
(my broken heart for a compass)
am suspended in that space
between two worlds
I a Glass Nobody
country without a name
must
with the fingertips of the blind
trace my own face in the dark
Malik Crumpler: Beautiful! Well, I won’t keep you because I know you have more poetry to write, so, lastly, you’ve written a lot of fiction too. Do you plan to publish your prose writing at some point?
AAK: I’m a little disappointed that I haven’t spent more time and attention on my short stories, essays, and perhaps more especially an almost finished play—Traveling Light—that I began writing some twenty years ago. But “hope springs eternal,” so even at the ripe old age of seventy-five, I’m determined to change my procrastinating ways. Starting tomorrow, of course. Haha. I was always afraid of attempting a novel. It always seemed the equivalent of crossing a great ocean (or drowning in one), whereas a poem by comparison is more like a creek or river…at least in distance. And so, I kind of tricked myself by writing short stories, complete unto themselves that could also make chapters in a novel. Now that I’ve written four or five, I’m at that crossroads of asking myself: short story collection or novel, which road to travel?
Knowing Antonia, the one less taken.