Some of the contributing writers for the TRASH project were folks we’d worked with before, and some of them were strangers that submitted their work in response to a nationwide call for short pieces on the theme of trash. Katrin Talbot, however, was in her own category: we found her in the pages of Madison Magazine in their 2015 Best of Madison issue. Voted as one of the three best spoken word artists in Madison, we got in touch and asked if she might be interested in contributing something. Before we knew it, we had a small collection of her poems that she thought might work for our project, and we were off and running. The Talbot poems that found their way into the final version of the show are both conceptual approaches to the theme: Broken Promises and Supernova Remnant N132D. We asked her to respond to our writers questions, and she did it in her own way, writing to us “of course I had to write a poem about one of the questions…lordie!”
Five Questions for Katrin Talbot…
What inspired you to write the piece(s) you created for TRASH?
As soon as I saw the subject, I thought about a poem called Broken Promises in a collection of mine (Freeze-Dried Love (Finishing Line Press)). I had sensed that the title had more potential than one little poem, so I wrote more installations on the subject. For the Supernova Remnant piece, I had been gazing at one of my favorite remember-you-are-just-a-speck-in-the-universe books, Astronomy 365, and I thought about Astral Trash—stars exploding, hearts exploding, and wrote the poem.
What will you NEVER throw away?
Seriously, my favorite coffee cup. And a bad habit or two.
What’s the one thing you’ve thrown away that you wish you hadn’t?
My first wanna-be Cuisinart, taken from me in a well-intended switch to a bigger (hand-me-down) actual Cuisinart.
Is there something you really need to throw away but won’t?
About 1023 expectations
If you had to live with just five material possessions, what would they be?
It was a shock when
asked, If only
five material possessions,
How much I’ve let go in
the thorny realm of
Need, even when I’m
floating around in a
Big Enough house full of
The word now in
my head more than Need is
Five Material Possessions,
Assuming I could find charcoal and birch bark for writing.
-violin or viola, if the climate allowed–if not, camera.
-volume of favorite poet
-glasses or contacts