Horseshoe Crab Blood Harvest
by Maria Provenzano
When we zoom out, these bodies resemble a string of beads,
jasper and agate, with their mingled shades of wet earth, sand viewed
through a shallow filter of seafoam. Here, up close,
there’s no ocean. A sterile needle to the heart and the blood trickles out,
impossibly blue, galaxy tincture—within the body, an entire verdigris system
of stars, liquid jewel, hazy shade of early morning sky, bathing each organ
with light. They say that most survive the harvest. They say most
make it home, lay eggs, grow old—the percentage is unclear.
When we zoom out, we don’t see them at all.
Why do you write poetry? What calls you to this art form?
I have always loved language. I have loved to read for as long as I can remember, and when I figured out that *I* could put words together in fun and different ways to make weird little shapes (aka "poems"), I was enchanted. How exciting to be able to create something where nothing existed before!
Poetry resonates with me because I like sitting with small moments. I like noticing small things and considering the ways in which they are actually big, the ways they are connected to a broader ecosystem of things. Poems invite us to slow down and examine what's happening around us and within our own bodies and minds and that is always worthwhile.
I also don't think I have the patience or capacity to write in prose for any extended period of time and I have heaps of admiration for anyone who can do that.
What is your approach to using the non-human world to articulate complex human emotions?
I try to remind myself a lot that it is really, really hard to be a person. Lots of people expect things from us. The world is on fire all the time. When my feelings around all this too-muchness get really loud and heavy, it can be helpful to filter my experience through non-human things. Hang up the human suit for a time and remind myself that I am in fact just three racoons in a trenchcoat. And this is part of the work that metaphor does for us -- it translates the big, hard-to-chew ideas into something more digestible, and allows us to get closer to the truth of the idea in a way that feels more approachable. It is funny to say that I am three racoons in a trenchcoat, so we soften into the image. But the image is actually articulating that I have no idea what I'm doing, it's terrifying to be an adult in the world, and who the heck let me drive a car or do other things that require passing a test or whatever? And this is ultimately a very relatable experience, because none of us know what we are doing, and we are all just three racoons in a trenchcoat, ya know?
From your work, you seem to be a fellow lover of train songs and train poems. Just thinking the word choo-choo brings a smile to my face. What is it about trains and transit spaces that calls to you as a poet?
Yes! Trains are the best! Trains became a safe space for me at a time when I really needed one. While I was working on my poetry MFA, I was commuting to Philly from the shore for work (shoutout to the NJ Transit Atlantic City line). And during my final semester (when I had to write my book-length manuscript), my husband was undergoing treatment for a malignant brain tumor. There was a lot I had to do all the time. There was so much to remember. I got a lot of writing done during my train commutes, and those commutes were also some of the only spans of time I had to myself. The train offered me space I didn't know I needed when I needed it most.
In a more general way, I love the in-between nature of trains. The transition between Point A and Point B. The journey to get there. What happens in this little pocket of time in which we can do nothing but *be*? And also, oh gosh. The people watching. The conversations you overhear. And--horror of horrors--What if you have to go to the bathroom on the train? High drama. Lots to write about.
You’ve mentioned living near South Jersey’s brackish marshlands where the river meets the sea which is a place of quiet friction and transition. Does this brackish water find its way into your poetic voice or the themes of identity you explore?
Absolutely! This brackish middle space has a train-like quality, I think. It's an in-between space. Not easily defined, so we had to make up a new word for it. And "brackish" is such a Good Word. All those consonants squishing together!
This finds its way into my poems in a literal way (I've written about our coastal ecosystems and the critters who live there), and I think its presence is always there in the background, because it's part of me. I grew up next to the bay in Absecon, and I have lived by the shore most of my life. As I've gotten older, I've acknowledged how special this is. How the textures of our local landscapes and waterscapes inform how I interact with the world. South Jersey is so special! I want everyone to know this!
Given your background with reading/editing, how brutal are you with your own drafts? What is your typical revision process?
Oh my gosh. I'm the worst. I'm so mean to myself. My revision process often starts with me berating myself for being the worst possible person, how dare I even attempt whatever the heck I think I'm doing.
And then once I get over myself, I sometimes actually enjoy revision. My first drafts tend to be very meandering and free flowing, and I often prefer to write things out by hand. Revision for me looks like rewriting the same words and lines over and over and over again until I get them *just right* (or whatever feels *just right* in that moment - it changes, of course), exploring what happens when I break lines in different places, sitting with how things feel in my body, and trying to listen to my gut. I want to accomplish as much as I can with the smallest amount of words, so I'm looking for what evokes the biggest emotional response in the smallest amount of words.
Where can we read more or your work/keep up with your writing journey?
My horribly out-of-date website is maria-provenzano.com! This is inspiring me to update it! And that is the best place to follow along with my journey. :)
Daniel Zehner was born and raised in Salem County, New Jersey and attended Dartmouth College and Boston University School of Law. He served as a Judge Advocate General (JAG) officer in the military before returning to New Jersey where he engaged in the private practice of law as a civil and criminal trial attorney for many years before retiring. He devoted more time to poetry toward the end of his law career and have pursued it steadfastly since his retirement. He had the good fortune of having met a master poet towards the end of his law career who became a mentor and introduced him to the world of poetry. He has had poems and haiku published in Paterson Literary Review, Schuylkill Valley Journal, The Main Street Rag, Lips, the Aurorean, New Jersey Bards Poetry Review, US 1 Worksheets, Frogpond, several Haiku Society of America Members’ Anthologies,and many Moonstone Arts Center anthologies. He recently received an Honorable Mention in the 2025 Allen Ginsberg Poetry Awards sponsored by the Poetry Center at Passaic County Community College and has a poem included in Speaking For Everyone, An Anthology of “We” Poems edited by Eric Greinke. He recently had a collection of poems entitled On the Outskirts accepted for publication by Finishing Line Press due for release in October 2026.
John Wojtowicz grew up working on his family’s azalea and rhododendron nursery in the backwoods of what Ginsberg dubbed “nowhere Zen New Jersey.” Currently, he works as a licensed clinical social worker and adjunct professor. He has been featured on Rowan University’s Writer’s Roundtable on 89.7 WGLS-FM and several of his poems were chosen to be exhibited in Princeton University's 2021 Unique Minds: Creative Voices art show at the Lewis Center for the Arts. He has been nominated 3x for a Pushcart Prize and serves as the Local Lyrics contributor for The Mad Poets Society Blog. His debut chapbook Roadside Oddities: A Poetic Guide to American Oddities was released in early 2022 and can be purchased at www.johnwojtowicz.com. He recently published No Lightsabers in the Kitchen. John lives with his wife and two children in Upper Deerfield, NJ.
