Charity E. Yoro, winner of a 2025 Oregon Book Award for ‘ten-cent flower & other territories’ • Oregon ArtsWatch

Charity E. Yoro, author of ten-cent flower & other territories, won the Stafford/Hall Award for Poetry at the 2025 Oregon Book Awards ceremony in April. She began writing poetry in seventh grade and was one of three scholarship students at a private French school on the east side of Oahu, Hawaii. Crediting her interest in writing to her English teacher, Ms. Jones, Yoro developed a love for words and the creative process that has aided and accompanied her through her life.

“Ms. Jones introduced me to creative writing as an outlet for my adolescent angst,” said Yoro over email recently. “I was working through some pretty deep stuff at that period of my life. Not to be dramatic, but I do believe that poetry, along with the mentorship of Ms. Jones and the general impact of a quality liberal education, saved me during those years.”

Born and raised in Oahu, Yoro relocated to the Portland area from California’s Bay Area due to her husband’s job, which recently led the family to move to Colorado. Though Yoro has found success in Oregon — her poetry collection was published by Portland’s First Matter Press — she holds Hawaii close to her heart in her writing.

“Hawaii is where my grandparents, parents, and most other family still live, and it will always be home,” she said. “The issues Hawaii faces, from wildfires to land rights, are ones I will advocate for and write about, no matter where I am living in the world.”

Yoro, whose essays and poems have received Pushcart Prize and Orison Anthology nominations, has a background in education and facilitating workshops that encourage co-creation, which she says in turn inspires her to grow as a writer and continually refine her work.

“Everything is practice,” Yoro offered as advice to new and mid-career writers. “As in, everything you read — or otherwise encounter, write, and publish — is material. And the material (publication, book, etc.) is not necessarily the end product. ‘Practice’ is both a verb and a noun, the ‘why’ and the ‘how.’ [Your] manuscript rejected for the 34th time? Unexpectedly given a prestigious literary award? Everything is practice. No grasping, no holding too tightly. Focus on the practice of it — the showing up for it, fully and consistently. The rest will come.”

Yoro and I talked about her creative process, writing during the pandemic, development of her book’s themes, and its cover art. Our conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.

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What does your creative process look like? Is there a certain time of day or place you like to write?

My creative process has certainly developed and adapted over the years. In high school and throughout my 20s, I found inspiration in quiet moments, often scribbling notes or sometimes full poems while taking the bus to school or work. After I graduated from college and left the islands to live abroad, I would write often while in transit — on planes, trains, or taxis. Leaving home and familiarity gave me a greater, macro-level perspective of the world and my place in it. Now, managing a household, working, teaching, and caretaking, I find myself drawn to writing in those small, stolen moments during the day: before my family wakes, during a screen break (or two), after everyone goes to sleep. The focused blocks of writing time that have gifted me a week at a time to eschew responsibilities in order to create and workshop — Tin House, Mineral School, and Kundiman — have been crucial to sustaining my creative practice.

Congratulations on your Oregon Book Award win. What was the catalyst for writing ten-cent flower & other territories?

Thank you! It was such an honor to be nominated, honestly. I often call ten-cent my first child, a tender little part of my heart. I am grateful to the creative writing programs and incredible faculty at both the University of San Francisco, where many of the poems in the collection began, and Portland State University, where they ultimately found their final forms.

Can you tell me a little bit about how the book’s themes emerged?

The arrangement of the book happened, in part, organically, with poems organizing themselves thematically in a natural way, and in part with my mentorship of my thesis adviser, John Beer, with some more nuanced coalescing. For example, one of the sections first consisted of a few disparate poems with a loose thread connecting them; later, that section evolved into a singular series poem. The last section of the book (“coda”) was created toward the end of the revision process as I finalized the manuscript, though the poems in that section were not an afterthought and were originally placed toward the beginning of the book. 

The cover features a striking image. Can you talk a little bit about the book design and your part in it?

Among the many things I appreciate about First Matter Press (FMP) — not least of all being the cohort model that felt both nourishing and productive — is the direct relationship an FMP author has with their cover artist, who is a local artist the FMP editors assign. It was important for me to have some say in the direction of the cover, especially for this first book, as I heard less-than-ideal experiences from colleagues and friends who regretfully did not feel they had the same agency.

I had the immense privilege of working with a talented collage artist, Lara Rouse, who made my cover dreams come true! Before shopping the book out to presses, I imagined the cover of the collection being a collage of some kind, so I considered it good luck to work with Lara, whose aesthetic inclinations are aligned with mine and who is just a delight to work with. 

I gave Lara a few keywords (elemental, concentric, moon phases, silhouettes/reflections, divine feminine, water/waves, sensual) and the constraint of “flower-like but not incorporating an actual flower.” And I think she nailed it! 

You released a collection of essays called Tide & Temperance in 2016. Do you have a different process for writing essays? How do essay and poetry writing intersect for you?

My process for writing essays is a bit more formulaic and involves a different level of architecting, I find, than writing poems. I am drawn to writing more prose poems and hybrid forms lately. I guess you can say that I enjoy playing in that intersection. I feel comfortable there. 

Why do you continue to write? What brings you back to the medium, and what about writing enriches your life?

Writing continues to be a respite from the horrors of the world and a tool with which I may feel empowered moving through and fighting against said horrors. I, like many of my peers and colleagues, have felt moments of despair, overwhelm, and helplessness in the last months/years. But writing brings me back, grounds me. During the early months of the pandemic, in the throes of crippling post-partum depression and anxiety, I wrote a “Tiny Love Story,” a microessay in 100 words, for The New York Times’ “Modern Love” column about my kid’s sleep regression. Writing asks of us to endure, to notice in order to move us through the hard stuff (isolation, uncertainty, injustice, violence), and for me, that noticing serves to connect me to my humanity in the darkest of times.

You occasionally host classes and workshops. What do you enjoy about teaching, and how does it influence your written work?

I see the creative writing classroom as a dynamic, fertile ground for co-creation. I enjoy teaching and facilitating for that reason; I learn and grow as a writer by being among other writers. Also, leading a class/workshop requires a different type of attention to a text and to a room. It is a craft that I am continuing to interrogate and refine.

Who are some of your favorite poets to read or inspirations in the field? Do you have any recommendations for readers?

Noʻu Revilla is an ʻŌiwi poet I deeply admire. Consuelo Wise and Sarah Ghazal Ali, whom I am lucky to call friends, are both incredibly talented. I think often about their respective debut collections (b o y and Theophanies).

What do you think the state of poetry in Oregon is today, and how can we encourage a flourishing scene?

Having lived outside of Portland (in the suburbs west), I think there are certainly opportunities to grow the “poetry scene” outside of the hip, concentrated bubble that exists in the city. More open mics, more readings, more multigenerational events — as I recently spoke about with a librarian friend — that invite a wider range of people and experiences to the stage. Literary Arts does a phenomenal job of producing such events. AND I will always advocate for more poetry in more spaces!

Can you tell me about any upcoming projects, workshops, etc.?

Nothing concrete yet, though I have a few workshop ideas brewing! I’m feeling drawn to more form-play and somatic experimentation, and have some offerings I’d like to explore in that realm. I always have a heart for the mamas and the caretakers, too, and am considering another workshop serving those brave, beautiful writers.