All Kinds of Time: An Interview with Lee Kiblinger
The author of "All the Untils" opens up about her new poetry collection
I am delighted to dialogue with Lee Kiblinger about her new poetry collection, All the Untils, which is now available through Wipf and Stock. This collection weaves an intricate tapestry through time and seasons, causing her readers to pause and admire each pulled thread and unifying pattern that emerges. All the Untils gives voice and validity to those of us wrestling with waiting while offering a gentle shifting from struggle to embrace of each and every season.
is a teacher and late blooming poet from Tyler, Texas, where she spends her time devouring novels, grading essays, laughing with three teenagers, and enjoying poems with Rabbit Room poets. Her work can be found in Calla Press, Ekstasis Magazine, Heart of Flesh and Solum Journal. You can read more of her poetry on Substack:
From the consideration of scenic overlooks to art galleries to suburbia, Lee’s poems sing the praises of nows, laters, and thens. I invite you to delve deeper into Lee’s creative process and pieces and encourage you to pick up a copy of her collection today!
I. If you could describe your collection in only 3 words, what would they be?
Well, I guess I’ll rely on the title itself for this one. I hope this book hints at “all the untils” that redeem a life journey.
II. Could you share a representative or pivotal excerpt from your collection? Perhaps something that invites the reader into the experience you want to create while reading your work? Why did you choose this excerpt?
The first poem of the collection is “Untilled.” It sheds light on our desire to know the whens, whys, and hows of our lives, though our stories are buried as seeds of mystery.
The last three lines:
“for what is underground, we know not how nor could imagine that en-earthed glory— germination of buried story.”
In my own life, so many seasons have invited wait. This collection, and even my journey as a writer, took years of wait. But to see my life as a story that will blossom in time, one that requires a muddy germination, gives it purpose and joy.
III. How did you decide on the arrangement and title of your book?
I began writing poetry about three years ago and found myself rethinking the mysteries of time. I saw so many shifts and turns and “voltas” that God had written in my own life: so many “untils.” So a theme and title were born.
I wanted the collection to tell a redemptive story. One in which we acknowledge the unknowns, see God’s intervention, follow Him, and by grace, rise.
IV. What’s the oldest piece of writing in your collection? What were the circumstances that inspired it?
One of the first poems in the collection was written over three years ago. The busy reality of a Monday morning often looms after the quiet of a Sabbath. My husband laments this transition between the bread and wine and the thorns and thistles. And I remember standing at our kitchen island wanting to put into words the hope that one day can offer the next. And that’s when I wrote, “Laughter Can Echo to Monday.”
V. Whose work helped you write this book? What inspires you? What gets you to the page?
This question merits a dissertation. I have taught high school literature and writing for over twenty-five years. While I never think of myself as a gifted creative writer, my dive into classic and modern literature has shaped who I am and how I write. Fortunately, a reader can make a writer. I have edited thousands of student essays and creative pieces and am probably more gifted as an editor than a creative thinker, but I know that those long hours annotating or hunkered down over students papers have shaped my poetry.
That being said, when its willing, my creativity is nurtured by sermons, podcasts, grocery store encounters, conversations, days alone at home, unique seasons. I also love reading from some of my favorites: Emily Dickinson, Luci Shaw, Mary Oliver, Wendell Berry, and Abigail Carroll. They inspire! And I learn so much from them.
VI. If All the Untils had an accompanying soundtrack, what’s one song that would be on the album and why?
Well, I can’t help but think of the hymn title, “Be Still, My Soul.” I have always loved this hymn, and especially the line, “all now mysterious, shall be bright at last.” Maybe this should have been my subtitle!
VII. In your introduction to the collection, you talk about your career as a teacher keeping you youthful. How has your teaching life influenced your writing life? Are there any pieces in AtU that speak to the relationship between time and the world of education?
Years of literature discussions in my classroom have blessed me in ways that I will never be able to articulate. I have learned life from so many brilliant students—their hopes, curiosities, perspectives, struggles, and doubts.
I don’t think any piece directly speaks to the world of education, but the theme of hindsight, the honest return to rethink or understand God’s ways and man’s ways, is what much of education is about. Whether it be studying history or literature or even science. If I had included “education” poems, they would have been parked next to the hindsight poems in chapter 2.
VIII. What obsessions have led you to the work contained in this collection?
Hmmm . . . this is probably an unusual response, but I’ve become obsessed with sound. Probably to a fault. I love alliteration, consonance, assonance, and the feeling of rhythm. I am insistent that even my free verse poems include elements of sound. Sometimes I wonder if it is a meaning’s expense, but if a poem doesn’t sound better read aloud, then it needs editing.
IV. Your poem, “Still Life” was featured in The Clayjar’s Spring 2024 issue. Your piece describes a woman painting, and the central image of her work is “a pale skull/the careful sockets/reminiscent of that gray Golgotha.” Interestingly, you included Psalm 131 as an epigraph to this piece, which famously includes the image of a weaned child at peace with their mother. This is a stark contrast; the painter considers a symbol of death and yet you draw attention to experiencing a childlike peace that the Psalmist urges us to have. How does this sentiment fit into your collection? Why did you choose to include this piece in particular to the story you are telling?
Our stories are beautiful from beginning to end—from birth to death. Hope and stillness are not just found in the between. The psalmist has “calmed and quieted” like a child dependent on a mother—like we are, in Christ. Even my midlife stillness is found in Jesus. But following Christ (according to the book of Romans) means following Him in life, in death, and in resurrection. I wanted “Still Life” to capture this trust, even in death, which is why she paints a familiar still life image, the skull. Through it, we remember Jesus’s death as well as our own. Actually, I hope the whole collection envisions the full redemptive story of seeing, following, and rising.
X. Speaking of painting, I noticed a consistent theme of art cropping up all throughout your collection. In “Underpainting,” you describe time like layers of color on canvas and you crafted a duplex titled, “Pointillism.” What relationship do you have with art? What about painting, or its process, attracts you to then write about it?
My most memorable college classes were art history classes. For me, looking at a work of art, particularly a painting, is similar to reading a poem. I look for the “plot” before uncovering the “underpainting” of a color or word. Sometimes I’m blessed to simply enjoy the whole of the work, the beauty of the picture or the song of a poem. Other times, I want to dig to uncover the nuances of a particular angle or line. I don’t remember consciously choosing to write more about painting or its process . . . but the metaphors do feel so natural.
XI. Which poem is the “misfit” in your collection and why?
Ha! This makes me think of Flannery O’Connor! Her Misfit in the short story “A Good Man is Hard to Find” is a despicable murderer that has a better grasp of truth than any other character in the story. I wonder if the “misfit” in my collection does the same?
I guess I might pick, “I try to learn jam band.” This poem was written for my music-loving oldest son who one evening tried to teach me the “story” of a jam band song—those 15-minute improvs that take you on a sound journey. While this poem feels less “religious” than others in the collection, for me, learning to “enjoy the dance” of life is something very spiritual.
XII. In “To Lose My Voice,” you liken the process of raising children to a song where “too soon the outros of childhood played/words ricocheted in the crevices/of crooked brows and cords drew curtains.” You’re now an empty nester; what does the song of this current season sound like to you and how does your collection project its tune?
Great question. Every mother sings this song differently. For me, it’s been a season of grief, and I often hear this season as a slow dirge. But in clearer moments (when I remember that I have less laundry now!), I can praise the God who gifted me with children, who fills me with grace to parent, and who will faithfully walk with my children when I cannot. Many of these poems speak to this trust. As my kids cross new thresholds, so do I. Their futures are unknown. As is mine. I do hope this collection is filled with songs that speak to every season and overflow with hope.
XIII. There are a few pieces in the collection that play with the physical shape of the poems’ words on the page. My favorite of the bunch is “Unraveling,” which makes them seem like they are falling apart from the middle. You even manage to position the words left and right on their respective sides of the piece. How do you choose the shape of a poem? Do you start with the shape in mind or do you write and reform it in the revision process?
I rarely start with a shape, unless the poem is a sonnet. My writing process begins with putting lots of words on a page. Sometimes it’s just phrases. Sometimes individual words. In the beginning, I usually write as fast as I can, hoping that I freely make connections between words and thoughts. In phase two, I create spacing. I tend to arrange in couplets or tercets, but this often morphs into something else. For example, a poem filled with urgency loses space in final drafts. I always try to find ways for form to aid in effect or meaning. “Unraveling” gave me the perfect opportunity. So did “Marginals.”
XIV. What one question do you wish I'd asked about your collection that I didn't? And how would you answer it?
I guess I would like to answer the question: Who helped?
While it is cliche to acknowledge that published work is a “collaboration,” I feel deeply indebted to The Habitation Poetry group. I would never have gained confidence as a poet without these friends. I would never have submitted a single poem to any journal without this group. And I certainly wouldn’t have tried to publish a book without their support. Writing friends are the best!
XV. Finally, what’s your go-to coffee shop order?
In the morning, a hot coffee with cream. In the afternoon, a decaf iced caramel latte.
Thank you to Lee for her time and thoughtful responses!
All the Untils is now available through Wipf and Stock and we at The Clayjar could not be more thrilled for her. Consider purchasing a copy to support and promote good, beautiful, and true art. The world needs more of it.
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Congratulations, Lee!
I love "Still Life," fellow Texan.