LA WEEKLY — CLINICAL POETRY AS ALCHEMY: How Todd Boss is Healing Lives, One Poem at a Time On a red carpet best known for fleeting glitz and gilded trophies, Grammy-nominated poet and podcaster Todd Boss made a moment eternal. With cameras flashing at the GRAMMY Awards in Los Angeles, he knelt and proposed to his partner, soprano and fellow nominee Hila Plitmann, not because it was good theater, but because it wasn’t. “I knelt on the red carpet because she shares that attitude,” Boss says of Plitmann. “I wanted to transform that carpet ride into something truly buoyant, by reaching past it, for something of real value. My lover and I just want to make great art. And make more great art. That’s it. That’s the grail.” If art is the grail, Boss may have already found a holy wellspring. His podcast, There’s a Poem in That, is redefining the boundaries of what poetry can do, and who it’s for. Blending therapeutic depth with poetic precision, the show takes real-life guests through an intimate, emotional excavation, which Boss then distills into bespoke verse. He calls it “clinical poetry,” and if the effusive response to his first and second season episodes are any indication, he’s struck a nerve. “I knew this podcast was something special when I put out a call for an editor, and got florid, effusive, adulatory responses to Episode One,” he says. “Professionals in the pod biz were stumbling over themselves to be part of TAPIT. I could only pick one of them, but the rest posted glowing reviews of the show, across various platforms.” The format is deceptively simple: Boss speaks with a guest, listens deeply, and then writes a poem that gives shape to the raw emotions or memories that emerge. But behind each poem lies a story, which is sometimes painful, sometimes profound, and the impact is often mutual. One such episode that still lingers with Boss involved a woman named Kelly. “Channeling Kelly’s dead father was a career highlight,” he says. “I hadn’t expected that was the poem she needed, until the morning I wrote it. It came from my own experience as the father of an estranged daughter. I wrote that poem from a place of deep love and loss.” That act of writing, more than expression, more than craft, became an act of reconciliation for the poet himself. “Delivering it to her, reading it to her, enacted a kind of reconciliation for me that went beyond merely ‘expressing myself.’ Kelly came to me for help and ended up helping me. I can’t think of her anymore without feeling she’s a daughter. That poem alchemized some sort of transubstantiation. We’re chemically bonded now, I think. I literally felt her father speaking through me.” These aren’t just poems. They’re bridges. And Boss sees an entire community of poets ready to cross them. “Thousands of poets coast to coast can be doing this healing work. Think of that,” he says. “TAPIT could release a show every day, and not run out of poets, clients, or healing words.” Indeed, Boss often taps into the wider poetry community, even bringing in Obama inaugural poet and Pulitzer finalist Richard Blanco to contribute poems. “As a poet with four collections from a major publisher, I have credibility in the poetry community, and I can call on just about any major writer,” he explains. “I intend to leverage that, not just because I can, but because I’ve become such an impassioned ambassador for this ‘clinical poetry’ modality I’m championing.” Despite the deeply emotional material, Boss doesn’t limit the show’s focus. “All are impacted deeply, but in vastly different ways,” he says of his guests. “For some, it’s about healing a wound. For others, it’s about grieving or moving on. Others need closure, or to express something to themselves.” He also doesn’t shy away from the difficulty of the task. “All life experiences are difficult to write about, if you really want to write into them and not just summarize them,” he says. “But what good is living if we’re not examining our lives with the intentionality our lives deserve? It’s no good just to be grateful for the gifts we’ve been given. We owe it to ourselves to appreciate the unique value of those gifts, down to the metaphorical pennyweight, and match our gratitude ounce by ounce. Anything less is skimming.” Now based in Austin, Boss still holds a soft spot for Los Angeles, having lived in Santa Monica and Long Beach. He continues to work with guests from everywhere, including, most recently, a Santa Monica man who voices his own dog. “And his dog wants a poem,” Boss says, without a hint of irony. “So my guest is this man, voicing his dog.” He’s currently accepting calls at (808) 300-0449 from anyone who might want to be featured in Season 3, which is already underway. And yes, Angelenos are very much encouraged to call. As for the future, Boss remains clear-eyed: it’s about connection, meaning, and keeping his artistic compass aligned. Trophies, fame, and attention might come and go, but for Boss, the gold is always in the poem. “Nobody rushes into a burning building to save a dumb trophy,” he says. “We’re after something more lasting.”