Liz Worth’s debut collection of poetry Amphetamine Heart (Guernica Editions, 2011) offers readers a glimpse into a harsh and dysfunctional lifestyle that is orchestrated by a rather seedy party culture filled with drugs, booze, and lost days. The poems were written over a three year period, and depict a lifestyle of excess and decay. Worth’s poems provide few excuses for living such a haphazard existence, but they do illustrate, with an unabashed intensity, the stark realities of addiction. Her poetry has been best described as being a little bit punk, a little bit heavy metal and a lot personal.
Many of the poems from Amphetamine Heart first appeared in the following publications: Carousel, Chiron Review, ChiZine, ditch: poetry that matters, and The Toronto Quarterly.
Worth is also the author of the critically acclaimed non-fiction book Treat Me Like Dirt: An Oral History of Punk in Toronto (ECW Press, 2010) which went into its second printing within a week of its release. Her first chapbook Eleven: Eleven (Trainwreck Press, 2008) was reviewed in Cherry Bleeds Literary Magazine, Venus Zine, Broken Pencil, and Lipstik Indie.
For more information, visit Liz Worth at her website and blog.
The Sequence of Equation
i
Leeching, it slid under the membranes
of my scalp, left a slow cold sludge:
the coating of nausea.
I’ve been licking knives.
My skin should be in spirals.
Instead it’s only heavy,
hungover.
Hand to hair, give it a tug,
pull out the lethargy and escape the
soft confines of the sheets.
Scrape back the morning with
muted screams tattooed to lids of fire.
Gag and spit
before the emergence of contractions
across the pupils.
ii
The gases of a dead dream are composed of
this embryonic equation:
(MAJOR Arcana) x 3 : (minor Arcana) = 9fits9fits9fits
They enter the skull through
cerebral hemorrhages, grow translucent legs
by the thousands, with dull amber eyes of diviners
that memorize labyrinthine dispersions.
Whether this is a state of being
is a debate that goes like this:
It’s tepid stress and leaves
a taste only for gall.
Neural din is
a solar perception,
the sundering of all points of corrosion.
iii
Dream Sequence, Exhibit A.
Your mouth: an intestinal cavity.
iv
Crippled, this innate filth
covers the permeable caffeine film, scars like stains
that make up the skeletal arsenal
of this cerebellum, which I
poke holes through those liquids
that glint like a dragon’s eye and tranquillize,
cauterize with organized inversions.
These arterial branches are
test patterns, the schema of adorning myself
with residual dissension,
charting this operation interlaced with symmetry.
The subconscious fights to abate.
v
Dream Sequence, Exhibit B.
This is the pressure of what’s inside.
*Note – The Sequence of Equation is from Amphetamine Heart.
TTQ - When did you decide that you wanted to write poetry, and who were some of your early influences and/or mentors along the way?
Liz Worth - I first decided I wanted to write poetry when I was 13. Even though it took years of practice before I understood the difference between good poetry and bad poetry, I was fairly serious about writing even back then. I’d been taking guitar lessons for a while, but my interest in writing was starting to compete with my interest in music. Eventually, I realized I had to make a decision and just give myself over to one of them, so I chose writing.
Edgar Allan Poe was an early influence, and so was Gwendolyn MacEwan, particularly for her book Magic Animals. I was also very influenced by music, and would study lyrics. I loved the strange images in Nirvana’s songs, and the daring statements that goth icon Rozz Williams declared in both his music and his spoken word recordings.
Even now, when I look back at the poetry I wrote throughout my teens, I find it pretty immature. I was lucky that others around me recognized some kind of potential. Even though I was often the youngest person in the room, I was welcomed at open mic nights and they encouraged me to get up and read. I also had an English teacher, Mr. Smart, who I think was the first person whose encouragement to write I took seriously. He wrote a comment on an assignment one day that said I should consider pursuing writing. I still have that piece of paper.
Later in high school, I did an internship at an experimental music magazine and became friends with the editor, Marisa Iacobucci. I had a poetry zine at the time and brought it in to show her at my interview. I lacked a lot of confidence in myself when I was a teenager and when I met her, I slowly started to get the sense that I could actually do more than I thought I could. Marisa had a huge role in that.
TTQ - Your debut collection of poetry Amphetamine Heart illustrates an uncomfortable and quite dysfunctional existence that is filled with boozecans, punk and heavy metal music scenarios, mixed in with what seem like hallucinations or dream sequences. How autobiographical are these poems, and to what extent was writing the book a cathartic experience for you?
Liz Worth - These poems are quite personal. In my early 20’s I did spend a lot of time drinking, and sometimes it was fun, and sometimes it wasn’t so fun. When it wasn’t fun it was usually because things had gone too far. I wouldn’t always know when I should go home. I wouldn’t always want to. I’d want one more drink and so I’d go find it, and sometimes other things found me. Or sometimes the night would get so late and out of hand and the next day my body would really feel it. Waking up at three in the afternoon shaking and not being able to remember much of the night before is not fun.
I came to a point where I was frustrated by how I was making myself feel and I had to figure out why I was pursuing certain things with such commitment when they always seemed to bring me to a dark place. I eventually realized a part of me wanted to die. I was drinking with the hopes of dying.
But even after I figured that out, and after I levelled out and stopped binge drinking to such an extent I still slid back into it, in a different way. In my mid-20’s I started to have a lot of trouble sleeping and so I started drinking at night to wind down, and then I would take sleeping pills, too.
If the poems in Amphetamine Heart feel uncomfortable, it’s because I wanted them to be. I wanted them to mirror how I was feeling physically through some of these times. My body was rundown, and my body disgusted me. It was tired. I was tired.
There are hallucinations and dream sequences throughout the book because those things also played a large role on how I felt. I’ve always had dreams. They make me tired sometimes, too. Insomnia was such a major factor in my life during the three years I was writing the poems in Amphetamine Heart that it was inevitable dreams and other sleep themes would make their way in there. I used to also get very paranoid at night, and imagine that things were in my apartment. Some of them made their way into these poems, too.
I wasn’t necessarily looking for catharsis as I was writing these pieces, but since finishing the book I have felt differently towards a lot of the experiences and subjects in Amphetamine Heart. I don’t feel the need to talk about them or explore them as much now, so maybe I do have a sense that I’ve moved on, although I don’t know if any experience is ever completely behind me. It’s still shaped me, but it doesn’t drive me.
TTQ - What primary message do you hope readers will take away with them after reading Amphetamine Heart, and do you think by writing the book it's changed you into the kind of person you would ultimately like to be?
Liz Worth - I would hope that readers connect with the book in whatever way feels right to them. While I can explain how my own experiences are reflected in the poems, someone else may see something completely different in them. I wouldn’t want my own story to be the only one that can be found here. Liz Worth - I first decided I wanted to write poetry when I was 13. Even though it took years of practice before I understood the difference between good poetry and bad poetry, I was fairly serious about writing even back then. I’d been taking guitar lessons for a while, but my interest in writing was starting to compete with my interest in music. Eventually, I realized I had to make a decision and just give myself over to one of them, so I chose writing.
Edgar Allan Poe was an early influence, and so was Gwendolyn MacEwan, particularly for her book Magic Animals. I was also very influenced by music, and would study lyrics. I loved the strange images in Nirvana’s songs, and the daring statements that goth icon Rozz Williams declared in both his music and his spoken word recordings.
Even now, when I look back at the poetry I wrote throughout my teens, I find it pretty immature. I was lucky that others around me recognized some kind of potential. Even though I was often the youngest person in the room, I was welcomed at open mic nights and they encouraged me to get up and read. I also had an English teacher, Mr. Smart, who I think was the first person whose encouragement to write I took seriously. He wrote a comment on an assignment one day that said I should consider pursuing writing. I still have that piece of paper.
Later in high school, I did an internship at an experimental music magazine and became friends with the editor, Marisa Iacobucci. I had a poetry zine at the time and brought it in to show her at my interview. I lacked a lot of confidence in myself when I was a teenager and when I met her, I slowly started to get the sense that I could actually do more than I thought I could. Marisa had a huge role in that.
TTQ - Your debut collection of poetry Amphetamine Heart illustrates an uncomfortable and quite dysfunctional existence that is filled with boozecans, punk and heavy metal music scenarios, mixed in with what seem like hallucinations or dream sequences. How autobiographical are these poems, and to what extent was writing the book a cathartic experience for you?
Liz Worth - These poems are quite personal. In my early 20’s I did spend a lot of time drinking, and sometimes it was fun, and sometimes it wasn’t so fun. When it wasn’t fun it was usually because things had gone too far. I wouldn’t always know when I should go home. I wouldn’t always want to. I’d want one more drink and so I’d go find it, and sometimes other things found me. Or sometimes the night would get so late and out of hand and the next day my body would really feel it. Waking up at three in the afternoon shaking and not being able to remember much of the night before is not fun.
I came to a point where I was frustrated by how I was making myself feel and I had to figure out why I was pursuing certain things with such commitment when they always seemed to bring me to a dark place. I eventually realized a part of me wanted to die. I was drinking with the hopes of dying.
But even after I figured that out, and after I levelled out and stopped binge drinking to such an extent I still slid back into it, in a different way. In my mid-20’s I started to have a lot of trouble sleeping and so I started drinking at night to wind down, and then I would take sleeping pills, too.
If the poems in Amphetamine Heart feel uncomfortable, it’s because I wanted them to be. I wanted them to mirror how I was feeling physically through some of these times. My body was rundown, and my body disgusted me. It was tired. I was tired.
There are hallucinations and dream sequences throughout the book because those things also played a large role on how I felt. I’ve always had dreams. They make me tired sometimes, too. Insomnia was such a major factor in my life during the three years I was writing the poems in Amphetamine Heart that it was inevitable dreams and other sleep themes would make their way in there. I used to also get very paranoid at night, and imagine that things were in my apartment. Some of them made their way into these poems, too.
I wasn’t necessarily looking for catharsis as I was writing these pieces, but since finishing the book I have felt differently towards a lot of the experiences and subjects in Amphetamine Heart. I don’t feel the need to talk about them or explore them as much now, so maybe I do have a sense that I’ve moved on, although I don’t know if any experience is ever completely behind me. It’s still shaped me, but it doesn’t drive me.
TTQ - What primary message do you hope readers will take away with them after reading Amphetamine Heart, and do you think by writing the book it's changed you into the kind of person you would ultimately like to be?
Did writing this book change me? I think it’s too soon to say. Before I wrote Amphetamine Heart I’d been doing a lot of music writing, which involved a lot of researching and interviewing. When I finished that book I really felt the need to go in a more creative direction, and so I went back to poetry. Making that commitment on its own changed me, and I think it did bring me somewhere closer to the person I would like to be. It helped me get back into spoken word nights and pushed me to get out to more literary events, and to think in a more creative way.
TTQ - Your first non-fiction book Treat Me Like Dirt: An Oral History of Punk in Toronto and Beyond was quite well received and went into its second printing with in a week of its release. Give us an overview of that book and talk about how the book came about and what the experience was like in writing it?
Liz Worth - Yes, Treat Me Like Dirt has a life of its own, which is great. It’s actually been reissued by ECW in a fourth printing. That book takes a look atToronto
I’ve often said that working on Treat Me Like Dirt was both the easiest and hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was easy because I really wanted to do it and once I got started a lot of things just fell into place. One interview led into another into another and so on. But it was also hard because, while I met a lot of amazing people and had a lot of fun, I also met a lot of difficult people and often had to justify why I was doing what I was doing, or just put up with a lot of their over-inflated egos. That can be pretty draining.
It was a lot of work. I not only did all the interviews but also all the transcribing myself, which takes hours. I didn’t know back then that you can hire someone to transcribe your tapes. It was all so overwhelming and there would be times when I would worry about whether I could even pull it off, but I was so far in that I knew quitting wasn’t an option.
I’m glad I did it but if I’d known how emotional it would be I think I would have been more careful with my feelings.
TTQ - What are your opinions on the recent OccupyToronto Occupy Wall Street
Liz Worth - The Occupy protests were an interesting news story, but I’m not convinced they will influence as much change as the protesters would like to see. That’s not meant as a critique on the movement, as people obviously put a lot of their time into these protests, but I am just not sure what the outcome will be. I don’t consider myself to be an overly political person because I never feel like I know enough. Even if I read everything I could about Occupy or any other political issue I would always question whether I had all the facts, and so unless I am confident that I am fully informed it’s hard for me to make an opinion.
Could poetry have influenced Occupy? That’s an interesting question. Protestors are kind of like spoken word artists on their own, aren’t they? They get out there, say their chants or their rhymes, and hope to be heard. If poetry were to enhance or influence Occupy, I think it would have to come with its own megaphone.
*Note – Photo of Liz Worth by Don Pyle.
Liz Worth - Yes, Treat Me Like Dirt has a life of its own, which is great. It’s actually been reissued by ECW in a fourth printing. That book takes a look at
I’ve often said that working on Treat Me Like Dirt was both the easiest and hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was easy because I really wanted to do it and once I got started a lot of things just fell into place. One interview led into another into another and so on. But it was also hard because, while I met a lot of amazing people and had a lot of fun, I also met a lot of difficult people and often had to justify why I was doing what I was doing, or just put up with a lot of their over-inflated egos. That can be pretty draining.
It was a lot of work. I not only did all the interviews but also all the transcribing myself, which takes hours. I didn’t know back then that you can hire someone to transcribe your tapes. It was all so overwhelming and there would be times when I would worry about whether I could even pull it off, but I was so far in that I knew quitting wasn’t an option.
I’m glad I did it but if I’d known how emotional it would be I think I would have been more careful with my feelings.
TTQ - What are your opinions on the recent Occupy
Liz Worth - The Occupy protests were an interesting news story, but I’m not convinced they will influence as much change as the protesters would like to see. That’s not meant as a critique on the movement, as people obviously put a lot of their time into these protests, but I am just not sure what the outcome will be. I don’t consider myself to be an overly political person because I never feel like I know enough. Even if I read everything I could about Occupy or any other political issue I would always question whether I had all the facts, and so unless I am confident that I am fully informed it’s hard for me to make an opinion.
Could poetry have influenced Occupy? That’s an interesting question. Protestors are kind of like spoken word artists on their own, aren’t they? They get out there, say their chants or their rhymes, and hope to be heard. If poetry were to enhance or influence Occupy, I think it would have to come with its own megaphone.
*Note – Photo of Liz Worth by Don Pyle.
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