In late 2023, Cider Press Review was thrilled to accept Jo Brachman’s manuscript, Prayers to a Small Stone, as our 2023 Cider Press Review Book Award recipient. Her poems—which are sharp, insightful, and effective—have appeared in a number of journals, including Best New Poets, Cimarron Review, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Cortland Review, and Poet Lore, among others.
Brachman’s hard work earned her the a Fulbright Scholar Award in 2022; her research at Sweden’s Lund University focused on the Witnessing Genocide archives concerning the German concentration camp, Ravensbrück, built specifically for the incarceration of women. Her current research encompasses the lives and the writings of the women who were interned there.
Brachman is also an accomplished translator, with her translated poems appearing in Exchanges: Journal of Literary Translation.
Managing Editor Catherine Campbell asked Jo a few questions about her upcoming book, Prayers to a Small Stone:
CC: Where do you find inspiration for your writing?
JB: Everywhere. Of course, that doesn’t mean that everything I write will turn into a poem. Oftentimes, it knocks on your door just to say, this is to practice your writing muscle, that’s all. Also, I don’t believe in waiting for inspiration. Like William Stafford says, the cure for writer’s block is to lower your expectations. I love that. It’s so encouraging. And Stafford was a great role model of someone showing up day after day to do the work.
CC: What themes do you find yourself being drawn to most in your work?
JB: This first book was written over a lengthy period of time, a decade. Overall, I am drawn to themes that touch the mystery of existence—whether in nature, long-term relationships, family of origin, or how we deal with the loss of a loved one. The title includes the word “prayers,” but not in a religious sense. Each poem can be viewed as a prayer searching for some sort of personal, intimate, or spiritual connection that can occur when we slow down, listen, and really look at how miraculous it is that we even exist at all. I was thrilled when Cider Press Review sent Rob Kesseler’s beautiful micrograph for the cover art—Medicago Arborea, a flowering plant species in the pea and bean family many times magnified. His photographic specialty looks closer revealing that in this world there is no such thing as ordinary.
CC: How do you look at your book, now that it’s done (do you still feel as close to the poems, or more removed from them)?
JB: I don’t know that I could ever feel removed from my poems. I certainly hope not. I think of it like listening to music. When I hear a song, I remember the place, the time, and what I was doing when I heard it in the past. The same way with poems. When I read a poem I’ve written, I remember where and when it came into being. Maybe it began in a workshop, or the ending was jotted down on a restaurant napkin, or a penultimate line appeared in a waiting room. I’ve discovered like with dreams, if I don’t record it at the moment it presents itself, the poem, or phrase, or word can slip away. Even on the occasions when I didn’t want it to, poetry has taught me about patience, trust, and giving poems time. One of my mentors wisely pointed out that intentionally leaving space in the poem, like leaving an open window, allows a surprise to slip through, something new that could not have been anticipated if the poem had been hurried or constrained.
CC: What do you want readers to take away from your book?
JB: First of all, I believe that every poet hopes that there are readers! My second hope is that a dialogue will be created between the reader and the poems. But once the poems are out in the world, as the poet, I must let them go. In a real sense they now belong to the reader. Some poems may speak to the reader, some may not, and over time, that relationship may change.
