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Interview With Poet LaureateCarving poetry in stone:
The Sisters of St. Joseph, who ran the school at the turn of the 20th century, taught the children of Afro-Cuban cigar workers. In an era governed by racial segregation, a state law passed in 1913 forbade individuals of one race teaching another. Defiantly, the sisters challenged the law and continued to teach. The law was eventually declared unconstitutional. The school remained open until 1952 when it was seriously damaged by fire. Tokley’s poem, called “Saga of St. Benedict,” was dedicated in February. The project was a partnership between Public Art, the Florida Department of Transportation and the Florida State Historic Preservation Office. Recently, Tokley talked with Creative City: Poet laureate. I’ve always loved that title. But just what does a city poet laureate do? I’ve held the title since 1996. I’ve written poems for mayoral inaugurations and other dedications and special events. Any community that considers itself urbane, any community who has taken the time to develop an aesthetic spirit ought to have laureates – poet laureate, photographer laureate, composer laureate. (Tampa has a photo laureate program that is almost three years old). When people ask me about being a poet laureate, I say I write occasional poems and hopefully not occasionally. Poet laureates are poets first and laureates second. I write every day. I'm moving into novels and I’m also interested in radio theater. How did the convent project happen? Robin Nigh (Tampa’s public art administrator) asked if I would like to write a poem about the old convent school, located at 20th and Columbus Drive. I didn’t know what she was talking about. But the idea of the image and the history fascinated me. I’m really an amateur historian, as I think is every poet. I jumped at it. How do you approach a historical, non-personal poem like that? I collect the information then I let it mellow in my special room. I actually invoke the spirit of the muse of poetry. I ask the muse to assist me. I find that my finest works are works that were written outside of me. I’ve just gotten into the habit of doing that. As many times as I’ve done it, it never let me down. I read the material and I let the nuts and bolts of it ferment and when I felt the time was right, I sat down and I began just literally to do automatic writing. I scribbled the first thing that came to my mind until the muse gave me the first line. That’s how I work, the muse gives me the first line and I struggle from there. I also have a very helpful woman I’m married to, who is my sharpest critic. If she says she doesn’t like a thing, I don’t bother with it any further. It goes to the trash heap. Is it intimidating to know your words are going to be etched in granite? When I found out it was a poem they intended to put in granite in the sidewalk, I was speechless. I have a poem featured underneath the statue at Chillura Park (in downtown Tampa), so this was the second poem in stone. Now there are pieces of my works that may be around 200 years from now. That is something that only my grandchildren will be able to explain the feeling about. Even before you were poet laureate Tampa was the backdrop for many of your best poems. What is it about the city that inspires you? The day we dedicated the sidewalk, Mayor Iorio said ‘I want Tampa to be a city of poems. I want people to be able to go anywhere in this city and see poetry in the sidewalk and on the walls.’ That’s beautiful. For me, Tampa is a poem. It is a living poem. We poets are trying to catch up with the beauty that is before us. You talked recently about giving up the job sometime in the next few years. I intend to step down in 2007. I will have been poet laureate for 10 years. I figure what’s the use of being poet laureate if someone else can’t be it too. I’m hoping the mayor will make the poet laureateship official and that someone gets it for 10 years. I’m hoping she will put that in stone. -- Paul Wilborn
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