His poems “The worst thing to ever happen has happened to me,” “Summer Cleaning” and “Slip” appear in the forty-sixth issue of Touch the Donkey.
Q: Tell me about the poems “The worst thing to ever happen has happened to me,” “Summer Cleaning” and “Slip.”
A: “The worst thing to ever happen has happened to me”
I’m working on a chapbook about overreacting; experiencing something so trivial and throwing a tantrum because it feels like the most important moment in human history. This poem really encapsulates that experience for me.
Also, the line “I’m at that age when the world’s against me” is my favourite thing I’ve ever written. So dramatic!
“Summer Cleaning”
A poem about expelling what is no longer needed, trying to scrub the smell of someone from your body to feel clean as you were before their touch. I wanted to capture that desperation, the burning desire to peel off your skin off and shove the crumpled mess to the bottom of the hamper.
“Slip”
Pottery poetry! Here I explore the phenomenon of memory changing each time a moment is remembered. You can never completely relive the past—it will always appear slightly different in your head, for better or for worse. Can you really believe the good ole’ days when their shape is constantly shifting? We are all unreliable narrators when considering the past tense.
Q: How do these poems compare to some of the other work you’ve been doing lately?
A: I wrote these poems at a very low place in my life, if you couldn’t guess. At that time, writing was purely therapeutic. I was able to make sense of those new feelings I was experiencing by pulling them from my head and turning them into poems. I could spend energy working through these poems instead my of much more complicated emotions, which was a very digestible way to navigate this kind of grief.
I’m delighted to say I’m a little more level-headed now and don’t approach every poem with rage and sadness, at least not so viscerally.
Q: With a chapbook debut under your belt, where have the poems been going since? How do you see your work, if at all, differently between then and what you’re currently working on?
A: I always think in terms of projects, because I very rarely do anything without a larger plan in mind. These three poems, as well as several others, will appear in my second chapbook (stay tuned). I’ve had one poem from this project published by Pinhole Poetry, and another by THEE rob mclennan for his Tuesday poetry series!
Currently, I am taking a little break from poetry to work on my grad school thesis, which is a collection of short stories. I’m returning to the world of horror fiction for now, but can already feel a couple poems brewing in the back of my skull. Summer does tend to be the season for writing poems.
Q: What brought you to the point of working on poems-as-projects?
A: The deeply engrained need to produce. I was built for capitalism. I loveeee to work and create products. I think it’s because I was raised on Taylor Swift, the queen of production. Turning my art into fully-realized projects brings me so much joy, which might not be the most “artist” thing to say.
When writing with charged emotions like I was here, it was also incredibly helpful to think in terms of a larger project. I could remove myself from the very tangible feelings and instead focus on this hypothetical final product, which served as much needed escapism when all I wanted to do was cry.
Q: Have you any other models for the kinds of work you’ve been attempting? Are there any particular poets or books at the back of your head as you write?
A: Oh my goodness, Xanax Cowboy by Hannah Green immediately comes to mind. She created the character of the Xanax Cowboy for her to slip into the same way I created this clown. I view these characters as a sort of protective shield from the vulnerability of writing about yourself in less-than-awesome situations. I don’t think I’d be able to stomach an entire collection of poems about myself without any kind of fun, dramatic imagery softening the blow.
Q: Of course, the question then becomes: why do you worry you’d otherwise lean into composing “an entire collection of poems about yourself” without creating a character? Why can’t you simply write poems that reference things without having to worry about the speaker and/or the narrative “I” interfering?
A: This is a tough one to answer! Essentially, I’m still weirded out by the concept of people reading the work I put out and then knowing about me, which I know isn’t the most productive feeling to have as a writer who wants to publish. That’s why I love using characters, or humor, or messing with different forms, to ease the tension of vulnerability. I think of it as wearing a cheap Halloween costume: I can present a fun, fabricated version of myself, but people can definitely still tell it's me under there. Plus, I take a lot more enjoyment as a poet inventing ways to write personally while still maintaining some level of mystery and intrigue. It makes the whole “people will read this” idea something I can look forward to instead of dread.
Q: Finally, who do you read to reenergize your own work? What particular works can’t you help but return to?
A: I run several creative writing programs at the library I work at, where I have the privilege of reading new work from dozens of local writers. Some of these writers have been honing their craft for years, some are starting right now.
This variety of work, often themes and forms I’d not necessarily seek out for myself, teaches me different techniques and ideas that ultimately influence my own writing. I leave every program with refreshed energy and a burning desire to get to work on something new.
