The State of Concrete and Iconographic Research Poetry

Abstract

In this chapter, the author reviews recent exemplars of concrete and iconographic research poetry. She traces the development of concrete and iconographic research poetry in journal articles and chapters in edited books, paying attention to the methods that each research poet employed to create their word-images. In addition to describing and interpreting recently published works, the author shares some previously unpublished iconographic ekphrastic research poetry that has promising implications for collaborative arts-based inquiry. She then engages in a reflexive examination of ethical tensions that she experienced as a non-Native scholar writing about Native artists and their works of art during her iconographic ekphrastic project. The author concludes this chapter with some writing exercises designed to encourage readers to open their eyes, ears, and hearts to sources of poetic inspiration from the natural world.

In this chapter, I review recent exemplars of concrete and iconographic research poetry. Beginning with my 2017 publication in Art/Research International, I trace the development of concrete and iconographic research poetry in journal articles and chapters in edited books (e.g., Lahman & DeOliveira, 2021; Lahman et al., 2019; Miller, 2019; Penwarden & Schoone, 2021; Schoone, 2018, 2019, 2020). Although I made the distinction between different types of concrete poems in my introductory chapter and choose to use the term “iconographic” to refer to my own work, I will use the terms that the authors employed to describe their poetry here because I want to validate the authors’ portrayals of their own works. In my review, I pay attention to the methods that each research poet employed to create their word-images. In addition to describing and interpreting recently published works, I share some previously unpublished iconographic ekphrastic research poetry that has promising implications for collaborative arts-based inquiry. After engaging in a reflexive examination of the ethical tensions that I experienced during my iconographic ekphrastic project, I conclude this chapter with some writing exercises designed to encourage readers to open their eyes, ears, and hearts to sources of poetic inspiration that surround us in the natural world.

3.1 From Casserole to Constellation: A Review of Concrete and Iconographic Research Poetry

In 2017, I published a study about the experiences of caregivers of children with mental illness (Meyer, 2017). In this paper, I used autoethnographic and ethnographic methods to explore the experiences of eight single mothers of children and young adults with mental illness. I employed the methods described in Chap. 2 to conduct a metaphor analysis of semi-structured interview data. Next, I generated an installation of iconographic research poems to represent metaphors that emerged from the data (e.g., the rollercoaster poem featured in Chap. 1). In addition, I created iconographic poems to represent themes in the scholarly literature about parenting children with mental illness. For example, I employed the shape of a casserole to represent the stigma experienced by caregivers of children with mental illness. (See “Casserole” in Fig. 3.1.) This typed text poem is shaped like a casserole to represent the different levels of social support received by parents of a child with a physical illness and parents of a child with mental illness. In this research project, I made a significant contribution to the existing body of research poetry by representing my literature review and research findings with iconographic research poems, a novel form of poetic inquiry.

Fig. 3.1

Source Meyer (2017). Reprinted by permission of the author

Iconographic research poem: “Casserole.”

In 2018, Schoone wrote a book chapter based on his 2015 dissertation research about the lived experiences of tutors in alternative education in New Zealand. In 2020, Schoone published an extended treatment of his dissertation research project in a book monograph. His study employed concrete poetry to create two- and three-dimensional representations of his participants’ voices. Schoone presented a clear and detailed description of the process by which he created found poems from interview transcripts, then converted the poems into three-dimensional constellations comprised of polystyrene balls, labeled with words and phrases, and suspended against the night sky with nylon string. Schoone photographed the constellations, then edited the photographs on his computer to enhance the legibility of the text. Influenced by Gomringer, who conceptualized concrete poetry as constellations of words (Gomringer, 1968), and James’s (2009) description of literary cut-ups, which create new texts from decontextualized fragments, Schoone transformed his data into a unique three-dimensional form of concrete research poetry, exemplified by the poem “Epiphany.” (See Fig. 3.2.)

Fig. 3.2

Source Schoone (2020). Reprinted by permission

Three-dimensional concrete research poem: “Epiphany.”

In 2019,Schoone published a book review in the form of a visual poem. Specifically, he created a found poem, using words and phrases from Pappne Demecs and Miller’s (2019) participatory research study about tapestry weaving in an aged care facility. Schoone created a visual representation of woven fabric, in which he placed words and phrases from Pappne Demecs and Miller’s article. (See “The Loom” in Fig. 3.3.) Because his poem was created in part as a response to visual images of tapestry weaving in the article, his research poem can also be characterized as ekphrastic poetry, which Gulla (2018) defined as “a poem written in response to a work of art” (p. 23).

Fig. 3.3

Source Schoone (2019). Reprinted by permission

Concrete ekphrastic research poem: “The Loom.”

Evonne Miller authored a book chapter about research poetry in 2019. She created a series of research poems from interviews that she conducted with residents in a nursing home in Australia. One of those poems, entitled, “When Your Time Is Up,” is a concrete research poem. (See Fig. 3.4.) In this poem, Miller placed her found poetry in the shape of an hourglass to represent how quickly time passes for nursing home residents. Although she doesn’t describe the method that she used to create her concrete poem, she appears to have inserted shapes and textboxes into a Microsoft Word document. This poem is powerful because the hourglass image reinforces the idea of time passing quickly for elderly people who are literally and figuratively close to death. The words “When Your Time Is Up” are formatted in bold letters in the title, as well as at the end of the poem, to indicate the pervasiveness of death in her respondents’ lived experiences.

Fig. 3.4

Source Miller (2019). Reprinted by permission

Concrete research poem: “When Your Time Is Up.”

Also in 2019, Lahman et al. coauthored an article that used research poetry to represent experiences that the authors had with their Institutional Review Boards (IRBs). One of the poems, written by Maria Lahman, employed concrete research poetry to represent her frustration with the IRB review process surrounding vulnerable populations. (See Fig. 3.5.) The poem, shaped like the letters “I,” “R,” and “B,” is filled with emotion-laden words such as “frustrated,” “angry,” “blame the messenger,” and ends with the words, “BENEFICENCE,” “RESPECT,” and “JUSTICE” in all uppercase letters, a clarion call to remember the principles on which the Belmont Report was founded. Although Lahman didn’t describe the method that she used to create her concrete poem, she appears to have used typed text, tabs, spaces, and hard returns to create the outline of the letters “I,” “R,” and “B.”

Fig. 3.5

Source Lahman et al. (2019). Reprinted by permission

Concrete research poem: “IRB.”

More recently, Lahman and DeOliveira (2021) wrote an article that features three-dimensional concrete research poems. Their poems, shaped like flowers and spheres, were found poems derived from handwritten or computer-printed lines of interview transcripts and researchers’ reflections. Lahman and DeOliveira provided instructors with a list of needed materials and step-by-step directions for this class activity that used crafting to enable students to hold their data in the palm of their hands. This exercise affords students a unique embodied perspective from which to contemplate their experiences with narrative inquiry.

Also in 2021, Penwarden and Schoone published an essay and found poetry they created from notes they had taken while listening to presentations at the Fifth International Symposium on Poetic Inquiry. Sarah Penwarden’s poem, “The Call” is a concrete poem shaped like the ebb and flow of the sea. Citing Butler-Kisber, Penwarden noted that this poem is also a cluster poem because it “shows different speakers’ utterances gathered under one theme” (p. 355). In the endnotes, she linked each line in the poem to a presenter at the symposium to bring transparency to the process of appropriating others’ words. In their reflections on their own and one another’s poems, the authors raised important questions regarding the ethics of repurposing others’ words in found poetry.

Despite the paucity of the existing body of concrete and iconographic research poetry, scholars from around the globe have published their work in scholarly journals and edited books. With techniques that range from typed text to three-dimensional word-art, concrete and iconographic research poets employ their craft to give voice to their own and their participants’ experiences across a variety of contexts, including families with mental illness, nursing home residents, alternative education tutors, institutional review boards, research projects, and research symposia. Most of these scholarly works focus on understanding and representing the lived experiences of people who are members of marginalized groups. Not all of the scholars who create concrete research poetry explicate their method, but those who do describe the process in depth. As Butler-Kisber (2010) observed, “What remains elusive in poetic inquiry, as with any kind of creative process, is the ability to really demonstrate how the poet moves from thoughts, images, and sensations, to the actual shaping of the words on the page” (p. 95). By describing our methodological processes clearly, first generation concrete and iconographic research poets can offer a roadmap for future scholars who want to explore this novel form of poetic inquiry.

3.2 Iconographic Ekphrastic Poetic Inquiry

In addition to the innovative examples noted above, I would like to share some of my unpublished poems that exemplify what I refer to as iconographic ekphrastic poetic inquiry. Although my poems and Schoone’s (2019) ekphrastic visual poem share some resemblance in terms of their form, they function much differently. All of our poems use iconographs to respond to artwork; however, Schoone’s poem functions as a review of a journal article, whereas my poems convey contextual information about the artists and their relationships. Recall that poetic inquiry differs from research poetry in that it embraces writing as a method of inquiry rather than an alternative means to represent research findings. Akin to Richardson and Walsh (2018), I hope to offer readers a variety of writing practices that will be “restorative... and potentially useful for other artist-teacher-researchers” (p. 161).

I created my first iconographic ekphrastic poem in response to a collaborative ekphrastic project that took place in my community. Before I even knew what ekphrasis was, I was fascinated by collaborative projects that involved art and poetry. In 2016, I was inspired by a call for poems and artwork related to a community arts festival sponsored by the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) Delaware County, Indiana and the Minnetrista Cultural Center. The exhibit, “Through an Open Window the Light Shines,” aimed to combat stigma by showcasing art and poetry by people affected by mental illness. I contacted one of my favorite artists, Christa Barnell, to ask if she would be interested in collaborating on an ekphrastic project with me.

The project originated in a poem that I had originally written as part of an autoethnographic research project about the experience of being a single parent of a child with mental illness. I was delighted when Christa agreed to collaborate with me and overjoyed when Christa invited her mother, Ann, to help her create a painting in response to my research poem. Christa and Ann used images embedded in my poem to paint a visual representation of the angel that I described in my poem. As you can see, their painting, depicted in Fig. 3.6, is rich with vibrant colors and religious symbolism, including a full-figured angel and a votive depicting the Virgin of Guadelupe.

Fig. 3.6

Source Barnell & Barnell (2016). Reprinted by permission

Painting: “Grounds for a Miracle.”

Ann and I exhibited our poetry and painting at the arts festival. In donating profits from the sale of our poetry and artwork to NAMI, Christa, Ann, and I invested in our community’s mental health resources. By disseminating our poetry and art in the community, we created and strengthened connections with other poets, artists, and members of the mental health community. In addition, we made a substantive contribution to the dialogue about mental health in our community.

As I reflected back on the relationship that I developed with Christa and Ann, I felt extremely grateful to have had the opportunity to collaborate with them. I decided to write an iconographic poem to describe the story of our ekphrastic collaboration. I began by creating a washed-out digital image of the painting. Although I gave up the vibrant colors in the original painting, I gained a neutral palette on which I could display text. Next, I compiled all of the archived emails related to this project that Christa, Ann, and I had exchanged over time. I then created a pastiche of emails that I cut and pasted behind the angel. This image, displayed in Fig. 3.7, is a visual representation of our collaborative relationship. Our words literally constitute the background on which the angel rests.

Fig. 3.7

Iconographic ekphrastic poem: “Grounds for a Miracle Backstory”

The iconographic ekphrastic poem in Fig. 3.7 could be characterized as archival poetry (Lahman & Richard, 2014), as well as email poetry (Faulkner & Ruby, 2015; Lahman, 2019). In addition, it is an autobiographical poem, as I am writing about my experience collaborating with the artists. This poem is interesting in that it demonstrates that ekphrasis can be an open-ended process. Ekphrasis can refer not only to a single poem written in response to a work of art (or a single work of art created in response to a poem), but also to a series of artistic and literary representations created in response to one another. Each iteration of the sequence could reveal another layer of the artists’ and poets’ interpretations of each other’s creative works, their experiences creating artistic and literary artifacts, the nature of their relationships, etc. In theory, this process could unfold indefinitely, like an arts-based infinity mirror. Modeling Richardson and Walsh (2018), artists and poets could exchange poetry and artwork in an ongoing collaborative and contemplative process designed to create “conscious and articulate experiences with a healing intent” (p. 162). Over time, collaborative ekphrastic poetry exchanges such as this promote generative learning, as well as authentic relationships (Sameshima & Wiebe, 2018). As Apol (2021) observed, this human, relational aspect of poetic inquiry or “withness” demands relational accountability. Writing this poem allowed me to reflect on and express gratitude for my collaborative relationship with Christa and Ann. In addition, this writing experiment enabled me to understand ekphrasis as an ongoing, reciprocal process. I invite readers to consider how they might employ ekphrasis to cultivate contemplation and gratitude in their own collaborative relationships.

My next three poems were inspired by the 2019 International Symposium on Poetic Inquiry’s call for papers. Because the United Nations designated 2019 as the International Year of Indigenous Languages, the symposium’s theme was poetry related to indigenous languages. In response to that call, I embarked on an iconographic ekphrastic journey. Moved by Native American art exhibited at the 2018 Eiteljorg Museum Indian Market and Festival, I decided to generate iconographic poems based on works of art that I found to be particularly evocative. This journey was one that changed my poetic voice in unexpected ways.

My first poem is entitled “Four Crows Spy Four Ravens.” (See Fig. 3.8.) This poem combines autobiographical and mystical elements. It describes an encounter that I had with some crows in my neighborhood while wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with Gordon Coons’ Four Ravens 2017 oil on canvas. (See Fig. 3.9.) Although I understand that the guard crow may have just been calling out a warning to alert his friends to the presence of an intruder, in that moment, I felt that the crows called out to me because they recognized the image of the ravens on my shirt. The iconographic poem, shaped like a crow, tells the story of that encounter. Writing the poem allowed me to learn about Coons’ art, the nature and language of ravens and crows, and to appreciate the magic that exists in everyday moments in the natural world. Coon’s art reflects his Ojibwa and Ottawa heritage, in which ravens and crows are thought to be messengers that mediate communication between humans and the spiritual realm. When the crows called out to me, I understood the crow’s messenger role in a new, entirely intuitive way. In writing a poem about this experience, I affirm indigenous and mystical ways of knowing. When I shared my poem with Coons, he validated my work by saying, “Beautiful poem. Your words add more stories to our relatives the crow. Your poem is a joy to read, thank you!” I invite readers to slow down, to listen to indigenous wisdom, and to allow themselves to see the magic that is all around us. The more we slow down and pay attention to the natural and spiritual worlds, the more we allow ourselves to see.

Fig. 3.8

Iconographic ekphrastic poem: “Four Crows Spy Four Ravens”

Fig. 3.9

Source “Gordon Coons, Ojibwa, Four Ravens (2017).” Reprinted by permission

Painting: “Four Ravens.”

My second poem is entitled “The Gourd Dancers.” (See Fig. 3.10.) As I have described elsewhere (Meyer, 2023), this poem was inspired by one of Patria Smith’s painted gourds, which depicts women at the Copan Powwow. When I met Smith at the Eiteljorg Indian Market, she told me the story behind the gourd painting. Later, I found an archived interview in which Smith tells the story that inspired her painting (DeVinney, 2008a). I transcribed her story verbatim and created an iconographic poem shaped like a gourd with Smith’s words. As I transcribed her story, I immersed myself in Smith’s lived experience, attending to her accent and the rhythm of her speech. In crafting this poem, I have inscribed a visual image that reflects the shape of Smith’s gourd painting with the artist’s narrative, which provides context for her artwork. By using Smith’s actual words, I have created a found poem that allows the reader to vicariously experience the event that inspired her gourd painting. The iconographic poem is a visual representation of how her Miami heritage and life experience have shaped her artwork. This poem celebrates the Native American powwow as a ceremony that preserves traditional Native American culture, nurtures relationships through community, and offers opportunities for artistic inspiration. Creating the poem allowed me to learn about Smith’s art, the cultural significance of the powwow, especially the gourd dance, and to appreciate the inspiration for artwork that exists in indigenous cultural ceremonies and Native American women’s friendships. In addition, this process enabled me to recognize that archives are a rich source for found poetry: Although I have used interview transcripts to create found poetry and iconographic research poetry before, this is the first time that I have combed archival data for material. This approach is similar to that employed by Lahman and Richard (2014), who used the terms “archival poetry” and “artifact poetry” to refer to research poems created from a body of existing empirical materials (as opposed to found poems generated from data gathered by the researcher). I invite readers to consider which indigenous cultural ceremonies and sources of archival data might inspire their poetic inquiry. The more we quiet our minds and take time to listen to the rhythm of the powwow drummers and voices of wise women and men, the more we allow ourselves to hear.

Fig. 3.10

Source Meyer (2023). Reprinted by permission of the author

Iconographic ekphrastic archival poem: “The Gourd Dancers.”

My third poem is entitled “Turtle Necklace.” (See Fig. 3.11.) This poem was inspired by one of Katrina Mitten’s lace agate turtle necklaces. Katrina Mitten is the friend that Patria Smith mentions in her story about the gourd dancers at the Copan Powwow. This iconographic poem is shaped like one of Mitten’s beaded lace agate turtle necklaces. I used a similar process to create the poem: I found an archived interview in which Mitten talks about the cultural significance of turtles in her work (DeVinney, 2008b). I transcribed her interview and filled an iconographic poem shaped like a turtle with Mitten’s words. Toward the bottom of the poem, the words “Miami woman keeps beadworking tradition alive” that fill the turtle’s legs and necklace’s beaded fringe are reminiscent of the title of a newspaper article about Mitten (Gray, 2016). In crafting this poem, I have inscribed a visual image that reflects the shape of Mitten’s necklace with the text of her interview, which provides insight about the influence of her Miami and Turtle Clan heritage on her artwork. By using Mitten’s own words, I have created an archival poem that allows the reader to appreciate the cultural significance of symbols that she employs in her beadwork. The iconographic poem is a visual representation of how her Miami heritage has shaped her artwork and a way to honor the important contributions that Mitten’s embroidery-style native beadwork has made to the preservation of Miami art and culture. Creating the poem allowed me to learn about Mitten’s beadwork, the symbolic significance of the turtle, and to appreciate the sources of inspiration for her artwork that stem from her Miami heritage and the natural world. I invite readers to think about how their heritage and relationship with the natural world might inspire their poetic inquiry. The more we open our hearts and minds to our sisters and brothers in the natural world, the more we allow ourselves to feel.

Fig. 3.11

Iconographic ekphrastic archival poem: Turtle Necklace

3.3 Reflexive Analysis

In the introduction to this book, I noted that reflexivity is a criterion used to evaluate the quality of research poetry (Richardson, 2000). Reflexivity (sometimes referred to as self-reflexivity) is also a hallmark of excellent qualitative research, as it is an indicator of sincerity, integrity, credibility, and trustworthiness (de Souza, 2019; Tracy, 2013, 2020). However, as Olmos-Vega et al. (2023) noted, reflexivity is often overlooked or treated superficially in the research process. In addition, it is often conflated with reflection (Gouzouasis, in press). In the following section, I identify and define three types of reflexivity that pertain to my iconographic ekphrastic poetry project. By engaging in a reflexive examination of the permissions processes related to reprinting the artwork that inspired my poems, I explore ethical tensions that I experienced as a non-Native scholar writing about Native artists and their works of art.

Reflexivity has been conceptualized in various ways. Simply put, reflexivity is “thoughtful, conscious self-awareness” (Finlay, 2002, p. 532). Given that a researcher’s social positioning inevitably influences their interpretation of data, as well as the research process, scholars are obligated to consider how their presence may have impacted their practices and findings. Reflexivity can be a relational phenomenon, as well. When scholars interact with others during the research process, they have an obligation to engage in relational reflexivity (Simon, 2013). Simon observed that when we attend to our inner dialogue and share it with research participants in our outer dialogue, we create opportunities for transparency, authentic communication, and meaningful collaboration. As “qualitative research has been deeply implicated in colonial, racial, and nationalist projects with the relationship between researcher and the ‘researched’ often mirroring the relationship between oppressors and oppressed” (de Souza, 2019, p. 2), reflexivity also requires that we consider how power dynamics may affect the relationships between researchers and participants. Thus, intersectional reflexivity requires that scholars “acknowledge and critique their own intersecting identities, and the privilege and disadvantage they represent in specific contexts” (Ruiz Castro, 2021, p. 217).

Leavy (2020) also argued that arts-based researchers ought to consider power when engaging in reflexivity. Research poets can challenge colonizing discourse by creating poetry based on the experiences of marginalized populations (Sjollema & Yuen, 2018); however, we have a responsibility to honor the individuals whose art or voices are present in our poems by obtaining permission, seeking feedback, and incorporating their suggestions whenever possible. By practicing relational and intersectional reflexivity, we can engage in decolonizing poetic inquiry that upholds high ethical standards. As Apol (2021) revealed, this can be a messy and complicated process at times, particularly when research poets are dominant group members writing about non-dominant group members.

As I examine my experiences related to writing iconographic ekphrastic archival poetry about Native American art, I realize the importance of being transparent about ethical tensions that I experienced during the process of requesting permission to reprint the artist’s works of art. At the beginning of this project, I had hoped to juxtapose each of the three poems with photos of the original works of art that had inspired them. However, I was unable to secure permission from Patria Smith or Katrina Mitten: I was unable to locate Smith in person or online; Mitten did not reply to requests that I made in person or over email. Although Coons granted me permission to reprint Four Ravens, he initially expressed reluctance to signing the contract my publisher required. As I considered the power relations embedded in my request, I realized there was a long legacy of European Americans asking Native Americans to sign contracts in the United States. In light of this colonizing history, I asked my editor for an exception to the standard procedure. Fortunately, she understood the oppressive power dynamics being reproduced in the situation and agreed to modify the permissions process for Coons. As a way of giving back to the Native communities with which Coons is affiliated, she also agreed to donate copies of the book to the Heard Museum and the Sequoia Research Center.

Although I was unable to reprint Smith’s or Mitten’s artwork, I was able to quote material from their archived interviews in my poems because the information was available to the public. Still, I weighed the ethical implications of incorporating their words in my poems without their explicit permission. Was I guilty of cultural appropriation (Rogers, 2006)? Was I violating the principle of “withness” (Apol, 2021) in the relationships that I formed with artists during my poetic inquiry? One thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to be another “White poet who would be Indian” (Rose, 1980).

As I have described elsewhere (Meyer, 2023) I consulted Jock’s (1996) suggestions for non-Native scholars who study Native communities, US copyright fair use factors (APA, 2020), and UNESCO’s (1989) recommendations of the safeguarding of traditional culture and folklore. Following UNESCO’s directive to “recognize the responsibility of archives to monitor the use made of the materials gathered” (p. 242), I contacted the director of the archive, who granted me permission to quote material from the archived interviews. Although I believe that my decision to incorporate Smith’s and Mitten’s words was ethical, I recognize that the relationships that I established with them were not as strong as those that I cultivated with the Barnells and Coons. I feel that stronger relationships produced superior outcomes not only in terms of the aesthetic quality of the poems juxtaposed with artwork, but also in terms of being able to give back to the artists in a meaningful way by donating books to their communities.

In conclusion, these four iconographic ekphrastic poems contain autobiographical, archival, and mystical elements that provide additional insight about the original works of art, the artists, and their relationships (with me or with one another). As Gulla (2018) observed, “Often the subject of an ekphrastic poem is not the work of art itself, but the encounter with the work of art that transforms the poet” (p. 23). This writing experiment has changed my poetic voice, allowing me to express gratitude for collaborative relationships, to reconceptualize ekphrasis, to present archival data as found poetry, and to honor indigenous and mystical ways of knowing. I have also gained a deeper appreciation for the power dynamics and ethical issues that non-Native scholars may encounter when requesting permission to use Native scholars’ artwork and stories in poetic inquiry. I hope that, in sharing my experiences, I will encourage others to explore the ethical practice of iconographic ekphrastic poetic inquiry. In offering you the following exercises, I invite you to open your eyes, ears, and heart to the wisdom of indigenous ways of knowing and the beauty and magic that surround us in the natural world. Toward these ends, I recommend practicing Cameron’s (1992) morning pages and artist dates; Smith’s (n.d.) walking meditation; Davis’s (2008) yoga poetry; and iconographic ekphrastic poetry in order to cultivate creativity, mindfulness, and embodiment. I suggest that qualitative researchers who are interested in learning more about how to incorporate reflexivity in their research practices read Olmos-Vega et al.’s (2023) “Practical Guide to Reflexivity in Qualitative Research.” In addition, I urge non-Native scholars who study Native communities to consult Jocks (1996) and UNESCO’s (1989) recommendations on the safeguarding of traditional culture and folklore.

3.4 Exercises

• 1. Julia Cameron (1992) encouraged writers to engage in two practices: writing morning pages every day and going on an artist date once a week. Morning pages involve writing three unedited pages about absolutely anything every day. Done first thing in the morning, morning pages allow us to turn off our inner censor and de-clutter our minds so that we can free up space for creative thought. Artist dates are excursions that we take by ourselves to places that nurture our creative inner child. A long walk in the woods or a visit to a favorite museum can fill up our inner well of creativity. For the next 30 days, make a commitment to incorporating these practices in your life. How do these activities change your poetic voice?

• 2. In the previous exercise, if you chose to walk in the woods for your first artist date, you might also enjoy practicing walking meditation. Walking meditation invites us to become more aware of the movement of each step (Smith, n.d.). Most people walk every day, but we typically don’t think about how we do it. Walking meditation is a way that we can repurpose an everyday activity as a meditative practice to increase mindfulness. Because walking meditation enhances mindfulness, it quiets the incessant chatter of our minds, which creates a space in which we can gain access to our intuition and creativity. When we practice walking meditation, we literally take steps toward becoming more creative people. For the next 30 days, make a daily commitment to practicing walking meditation. How does this practice change your poetic voice?

• 3. If you chose to visit a museum for your first artist date in Exercise 1, you might also enjoy practicing iconographic ekphrastic poetic inquiry. Find a work of art that moves you. Ask yourself why it resonates with you. Are there images or symbols in the artwork that are meaningful to you? Are there things that you don’t understand? Imagine that the artist invites you to collaborate with them on an ekphrastic art-to-poetry project. Think of questions that you would like to ask the artist about their work of art. Jot down your responses to one or more of these writing prompts, then convert the text into an iconographic ekphrastic poem. Reflect on how this exercise changes your poetic voice.

• 4. Jeff Davis (2008) recommended that writers practice yoga poetry on a daily basis. Yoga poetry is a writing practice that employs yoga to quiet the mind, increase focus, and activate emotional imagery and creativity. Davis argued that yoga is a muse for creative writing: By incorporating yogic awareness into our writing practice, we can enhance the mind–body connection and boost our capacity for writing embodied poetry. For the next 30 days, join a weekly yoga class and make a daily commitment to practicing yoga postures synchronized with your breathing. How does this practice change your poetic voice?

• 5. Readers who identify as yoga practitioners may want to try this exercise: The poem “Salute to the Sun,” found in Table 3.1, is a yoga poem that I wrote. Each line of the poem corresponds to a posture in the sequence known as Surya Namaskar or the Sun Salutation. There are many different variations of this sequence. (See Ezrin, 2022, for some common permutations.) I used Sun Salutation A here, as its 11 steps are synchronized with the rhythm of my yoga poem, but you can practice your own version, as long as the number of steps match the number of lines in the poem. Before you begin, place a copy of the poem in a place where it is easy to see from your yoga mat. (I like to tape mine on the wall in front of me.) If you have limited vision, you could create an audio recording of the poem instead.

  Table 3.1 Yoga poetry exercise: salute to the sun

Stand in mountain pose and take a deep breath. On the exhalation, read the first line of the poem. Inhale, extending your arms overhead as you read the second line of the poem. Continue, moving through all of the postures in the sequence in tandem with each line of the poem. Feel free to experiment, adapting the postures, line breaks, and breathing until it feels right to you. Alternatively, write your own yoga poem to accompany your favorite sequence of yoga postures. Reflect on how this exercise affects your yoga practice, as well as your poetic voice.