Michael Albright has published poems in various journals, including Stirring, Rust + Moth, Tar River Poetry, Pembroke Magazine, Cider Press Review, Revolver, Moon City Review, Pretty Owl, Uppagus, and the chapbook In the Hall of Dead Birds and Viking Tools. He also curates the "Under the Sign of the Bear" reading series in Pittsburgh, and is managing editor of the Pittsburgh Poetry Review. He lives on a windy hilltop near Greensburg, PA, with his wife, Lori, and an ever-changing array of children and other animals.
DS: Why do you write poetry?
MA: Well, not to get too cute about it, because I can't paint. Everyone has some kind of creative urge, and if we're lucky, we find out what we have an affinity for, how we can express it. Writing has always been my primary means of expression, even before it was something I took seriously. But why poetry? Because I am not a novelist. Or a song-writer. For me, the concision and heightening of language, the interplay between words written on the page, as they are read, evoke a sort of altered state of consciousness, like listening to King Crimson through headphones on acid. I've always considered poetry the highest form or art, which is why I would never be so hubristic to describe myself as "poet." I try to write poetry; it's for other people to say whether I am a poet, or not.
DS: What do you hope to find in poems written by other people?
MA: Simply stated, words I can't stop reading, or listening to. I'm less concerned (but not unconcerned) about meaning than I am with the lyric in the poem. In my favorite poems, the words make the music, and in turn, music makes meaning. I don't care if a poem is linear, as long as the words are arranged in the way that makes me want to read it over and over again, just for the pleasure of it, the way I listen to music. The best make me feel something physical; goose bumps, chills, a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. Without the lyric, poems are just newspaper articles.
DS: Describe your works in progress.
MA: I have three projects in progress. The first is a chapbook length collection of usually short, somewhat surrealistic, sometimes absurdist, and always dark hybrid-y prose poems. I am also deep into a manuscript of a combination of original and hybrid work dealing with my balance disorder, and the other conditions that contribute to my disability. Then there is my ever-present "gothic novel in verse of forbidden love, murder, and global warming." I am nothing if not ambitious.
DS: What are your hopes for the future of poetry?
MA: My hope is that poetry continues to become more and more relevant. Despite charges that it isn't relevant (and when did the non-poetry community ever think it was?), it has emerged as one of the best vehicles for people writing from outside of privilege to find an audience. Despite seeing statistics that fewer people are reading poetry than ever, we have this absolute explosion of independent journals and publishers. I'd be surprised if enrollment in poetry MFA programs isn't at an all-time high, a circumstance often maligned, but you'll never hear that from me; you have to be crazy serious about poetry to choose that as your life's work, and all those people have a vested interest in getting more people to read and write poetry. These people are my heroes. They are the future of our art. Every poet who has published a book, or even published a poem in a journal, has friends and family that will read at least one of their poems if they ask them. Ask them.
The poem is a little myth of man's capacity of making life meaningful. And in the end, the poem is not a thing we see--it is, rather, a light by which we may see--and what we see is life.
Robert Penn Warren
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
Four Questions for Susan Yount
Susan Yount was raised on a farm in southern Indiana where
she learned to drive a tractor and hug her beloved goat, Cinnamon. She is editor of Arsenic
Lobster
Poetry Journal, madam of the Chicago
Poetry Bordello, and founder of Misty
Publications. She also works full time at the Associated
Press and teaches online poetry classes at The Poetry Barn. As if all that wasn’t
enough, she is mother to a rowdy 9-year-old. She has published two chapbooks, House on Fire and Catastrophe Theory. A third
chapbook, Act One, is forthcoming
from Saucepot Publishing. In her free time, she works on the Poetry Tarot. You
can keep up with her progress here.
DS: Why do you write
poetry?
SY: Unfortunately, I only write poetry when I have something
burning to say. My muse has never been sweet but has always been a bitter fire
demon at the edge of a rotting hole inside my being. When the demon gets too
close to the raw edge, when the hole feels threatened, that is when the poems
erupt. I write poetry to keep the hole
from consuming me.
DS: What do you hope
to find in poems written by other people?
SY: My favorite poems are honest and filled with the
gruesome imagery of the human condition. They reveal something about humanity
that we mask in our everyday lives. I’m currently reading Notes for My Body Double
by Paul Guest – WHOA! Now that is THE SHIT I’ve been looking for.
DS: Describe your
works in progress.
SY: This is the year I want to work on the Minor Arcana of
the Poetry Tarot I started in 2011.
I’ve finished the Major Arcana which utilizes images of dead
poets, their handwriting (whenever it has been available in the public domain) and
often an image of their childhood home – or some other important place of
writing. You can view some samples here. These are not haphazard images and ideas
thrown together. I have meditated, worked myself into frenzy, and even dared the
demon to the middle of the hole in order to provide the best representation of
the card and the poet.
The true challenge for me is the Minor Arcana and will
consist of living poets (at least at the time of creation), a sample of their
handwriting and some essence of the poet they are within the imagery of the
card itself. I’m currently seeking volunteers – details on how to query me can
be found at my tumblr page.
Once all the graphic work is completed, the final goal is to
edit a book which interprets the cards and includes a poem from each poet.
DS: What are your
hopes for the future of poetry?
SY: I hope I don’t lose it. I hope it finds me furious, thirsty, and crying. I hope it fights me in the middle of the night. I hope it buries me
alive.
Susan’s Work Online:
YouTube
Susan’s Chapbooks:
Susan’s Chapbooks:
Catastrophe Theory
(Hyacinth Girl Press)
House on Fire
(Blood Pudding Press)
Act One (forthcoming, Saucepot Publishing)
Act One (forthcoming, Saucepot Publishing)
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