REBIRTH AND MAGIC

the operating system
The Operating System & Liminal Lab
9 min readAug 12, 2022

An OS [RE:CON]versation with Patrick Roche, author of “An Exercise in Necromancy” (2017)

Cover art for “An Exercise in Necromancy,” featuring Patte Loper’s “Until I Hear You Sigh Here” (2009).

#FromTheArchive: This interview was conducted and published in the backmatter of An Exercise in Necromancy in 2017. Questions by Elæ Moss.

Who are you?

I’m Patrick Roche, a poet and mental health advocate who has spent my entire life in New Jersey, though I’ve become more attached to New York City in recent years. I’m also a huge fan of chocolate, pop music, video games, or any combination of those.

Why are you a poet?

When did you decide you were a poet (and/or: do you feel comfortable calling yourself a poet, what other titles or affiliations do you prefer/feel are more accurate)? What’s a “poet”, anyway?

I am a poet out of luck and circumstance as much as I am one out of necessity. I wrote poetry occasionally throughout high school, but it became my primary means of escape and relief in college. I had injured my knees, so I no longer had the ability to go on runs, which had always helped clear my head. Just as I was turning to poetry more, a spoken word student group had started on campus, and through a series of open mic readings (at the strong urging of some friends), I crossed paths with that group. Once I became part of a community of writers, I fell in love with poetry even more and became fascinated with the impact that it can have on others. I needed a way to make sense of my experiences and the world around me, which I think is the closest to a working definition of a “poet” that I use for my own purposes. I’ve always felt a desire for clarity in my experiences, and I used to find that through running and allowing my thoughts to quiet. When I no longer had that, I decided to explore my experiences more directly, making sense of them and articulating their complexities with words. I continue to do this as much for my own selfish use (to cope with or process life) as I do to create dialogue and engage with an audience.

What is the role of the poet today?

What do you see as your cultural and social role (in the poetry community and beyond)?

I think a very basic role of the poet has remained somewhat similar over the years — articulating those things which are difficult to pinpoint or exploring the human experience in a way that makes sense of the world. Today, we live in a remarkable age of having limitless information available to us and of seeing constant innovation and change (technological, political, social, medical, scientific). Finding the words to articulate how all of these experiences affect our lives, our emotions, our dreams, and our place in the world — that seems to be something that people need from writers and poets. The poet today has the ability to connect with people on a very visceral level, creating emotional bonds and sparking dialogue and thought, all in a time when those kinds of connections are increasingly difficult to forge. Today, any artistic creation seems to be a political act given the pressures against art and artists. The poet today has been thrust into a political position by virtue of creating art at all. I hope to push myself further in that role by engaging with audiences in as genuine and authentic a way as possible. I have found that I am most effective and powerful when I speak from personal narrative, and I try to use those strengths to call attention to the importance of each individual person’s stories and narratives — reclaiming our stories, realizing the strength of our experience. I also hope to serve as a voice to combat the stigma facing people with mental illness. I have found that articulating personal experiences with mental illness can be the most effective way of helping audiences understand those struggles.

Talk about the process or instinct to move these poems (or your work in general) as independent entities into a body of work. How and why did this happen? Have you had this intention for a while? What encouraged and/or confounded this (or a book, in general) coming together? Was it a struggle?

Did you envision this collection as a collection or understand your process as writing specifically around a theme while the poems themselves were being written? How or how not?

I had written a few of the poems in this book over a short period of time about a year ago, but I did not consciously think about creating a cohesive collection or body of work. After I finished writing a few of them and started editing them or memorizing them for performance, I realized that there were common threads that ran through them — themes of rebirth, magic, life, memory, grief, acceptance. I decided that I would try an exercise of writing more poems involving these themes, applying them to different experiences and topics or exploring different forms and styles. I had hoped I would end up with enough poems for a chapbook or some sort of collection, and I gradually reached a point of being satisfied with the poems as a body of work. I found the idea of rebirth to be very appealing, and as I wrote more, it felt cathartic and healing. Those feelings encouraged me to pursue these themes even more until I felt satisfied with the collection.

What formal structures or other constrictive practices (if any) do you use in the creation of your work? Have certain teachers or instructive environments, or readings/writings of other creative people (poets or others) informed the way you work/write?

Sometimes I am struck by a specific idea or subject and begin to write a poem from that point. Other times, I decide that I want to write in a specific form (as with the contrapuntals in this chapbook). I do not have a consistent pattern by any means. Recently, I’ve been most productive when I have tried an exercise of writing odes. If I feel like I am in a creative slump, operating within a specific structure or form is helpful to me. I also look to the writing of as many different writers as I can, but I most often come back to people in my own communities. I have found so much inspiration from just sitting in the audience at an open mic or a slam in the area and being moved by people sharing their work with one another. Also, for some reason that I still can’t figure out, the one physical environment that works best for me is a specific bubble tea shop? I don’t know why I’m so productive there, but I’m not going to question it.

Speaking of monikers, what does your title represent? How was it generated? Talk about the way you titled the book, and how your process of naming (poems, sections, etc) influences you and/or colors your work specifically.

The title of this chapbook comes from a line in one of my poems, “Hocus Pocus.” That poem (and a couple others that I wrote around the same time) made me realize how much I was writing about rebirth and magic. That specific line, “This body, an exercise in necromancy,” sparked quite a few other poems and was in many ways the inspiration for crafting a collection around that idea.

What does this particular collection of poems represent to you

…as indicative of your method/creative practice?

…as indicative of your history?

…as indicative of your mission/intentions/hopes/plans?

This collection represents a shift in my writing toward a more cohesive, complex, and deliberate approach. But most importantly to me, it represents a slow shift toward healing and optimism. While many poems delve into some dark places (which I think are super necessary, and I am proud that I have found a way to articulate really difficult and painful experiences and thoughts), as the collection proceeds toward a point of acceptance (largely aided by writing odes), I think the collection marks a shift in my writing as a whole. The collection also serves as a means for me to show the intersections of all of my experiences with family, mental health, love, and self-image. I hope that these poems will help me push myself even further in my role as someone who can engage with others on a personal level while speaking unashamedly about mental illness.

What does this book DO (as much as what it says or contains)?

This book speaks about everything I have felt ashamed of for very long. This book helps heal that shame, and hopefully it shows that personal narrative is one of the most meaningful and effective ways to connect with others.

What would be the best possible outcome for this book? What might it do in the world, and how will its presence as an object facilitate your creative role in your community and beyond? What are your hopes for this book, and for your practice?

I hope that people respond well to this book on an emotional level. I hope that it builds bridges and impacts those that read it, and I hope that it provides me with a platform for speaking with audiences and engaging in the kinds of dialogue that the book hopefully sparks — about hope, joy, mental illness, fear, sadness. I want to be a poet who can engage in conversations that explore how we can deconstruct stigma and shame. I hope this book helps me do that.

Let’s talk a little bit about the role of poetics and creative community in social activism, in particular in what I call “Civil Rights 2.0,” which has remained immediately present all around us in the time leading up to this series’ publication. I’d be curious to hear some thoughts on the challenges we face in speaking and publishing across lines of race, age, privilege, social/cultural background, and sexuality within the community, vs. the dangers of remaining and producing in isolated “silos.

I fell in love with poetry because of its ability to connect and create conversations, especially those that involve examinations of social issues, race, gender, age, privilege, etc…and as I alluded to above, speaking openly and creating art have become political acts in and of themselves. Therefore, I feel a need to place poetics (especially the poetry I share, which so often involves speaking to audiences and engaging with a community) within the context of our current political climate, creating space for progress and social change that shows, listens to, celebrates, amplifies, and engages with marginalized voices.

Photo via Button Poetry.

Patrick Roche is an award-winning poet and performer from New Jersey. Videos of Patrick’s work have amassed over 7.5 million views on YouTube, making him one of the most popular spoken word poets. He is the author of An Exercise in Necromancy (Bowery Poetry/The Operating System, 2017). Patrick has competed or been featured at multiple national and international competitions and festivals, including placing 3rd in the world at the 2016 Individual World Poetry Slam, 2nd at the 2017 Capturing Fire national queer slam, 9th at the 2017 National Poetry Slam as part of the Bowery Slam Team, and 3rd at the 2014 College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational (CUPSI, the national collegiate slam) as part of Princeton University’s team. Patrick serves nationally as an ambassador for the JED Foundation, promoting mental and emotional health, suicide prevention, and substance abuse awareness. He has shared stages with Darryl ‘DMC’ McDaniels of RUN DMC, Pitch Perfect star Brittany Snow, Everybody Hates Chris and The Walking Dead star Tyler James Williams, and Olympic Gold Medalist Chamique Holdsclaw, among others.

Patrick’s work has appeared in or been published by Button Poetry, UpWorthy, Buzzfeed, The Huffington Post, MSN, Beech Street Review, Gal Pals Present, Freezeray Press, Voicemail Poems, and more. His work explores mental health, grief, sexuality, body image, disordered eating, family, memory, love, joy, pop culture, and everything in between. Patrick is a 2014 graduate of Princeton University, where he studied Classics (specifically Latin and Greek poetry) and Education.

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