A Man Walks into a Poem

Karan

I am pulled by your colloquial, nonchalant tone in these poems, especially because the content is often unusual or strange. These poems are rendered very accessible by this tone. I feel like even a pre-teen could read these and have a really cool experience, which, I think, modern poetry often lacks. They’re also brimming with literary and cultural references that contribute to the overall texture and meaning of the narratives. In “New Year's Eve at the Museum…,” the man in a ‘Kafka for President’ shirt transforms “into a banana peel”, appropriately introducing Kafkaesque absurdity. “The Zoo” exhibits the contemporary online dating culture while “Man on a Pier” draws on the nostalgia associated with southern California and surfing culture. And the reference to ‘Salvador Dali for President’ injects humor into the businessman's identity, creating a playful juxtaposition between the surreal and the pragmatic. Your use of cultural references serves multiple purposes, from enhancing humor to grounding the narratives in recognizable cultural contexts. The colloquial tone of these poems complement the surreal content — do you think about striking a balance between the unusual and the accessible as you write? What is your process like when you sit down to write these surreal-absurd prose poems? Is it different from your other lineated poetry?

Jose

I do think of having a good balance between artistic references, mundane moments, literary technique, pop cultural references, musicality, etc. I don’t map it out with precise percentages, however. Instead, I strive for an organic authenticity using my ears and eyes. My lineated poetry tends to be more autobiographical and less surreal or absurd. Not always, of course, but mostly. All of my full-length books or manuscripts are divided between first half autobiographical linear verse and second half prose poetry.

Karan

These poems are also working with a fluidity in the temporal structure, seamlessly transitioning between different moments or phases in the characters' lives. For instance, in “New Year's Eve at the Museum…,” the narrative shifts from the chaotic New Year's Eve event to the peaceful closure of the museum at 3 a.m. In “The Professor of Existentialism,” the protagonist's day unfolds from the morning struggle with a non-starting car to his unexpected venture into martial arts, creating a sense of spontaneity and unpredictability. This interweaving of past, present, and future moments creates a dynamic and engaging narrative that mirrors the complexity of real-life experiences, and allows for a richer exploration of characters and events. Are these leaps in time a conscious component of your narrative technique? It aligns so well with the whimsical nature of the poems, offering a multi-dimensional and immersive literary experience. Can you explore how you write time in your work?

Jose

Yes, I do often strive for an unpredictable or spontaneous prose poem and narrator/voice. I like to keep the readers (and myself as I’m drafting) on our toes. I’m interested in the imaginative possibilities of associative leaps and discovering where a prose poem takes me and the reader. I want my work to be enjoyable to readers, not a chore, while still being a stimulating intellectual experience, but I also want my work to sound fresh and interesting or powerful read aloud as well.

Karan

Even though your prose poems are full of non-sequiturs, narrative seems to be an important component of your work. All of these prose poems have a beginning, a middle and an end. It’s not often as clearly defined as it is, say, in Robert Hass’s “A Story About the Body”. I’m especially thinking of your poem “The Illusion of Time”. Do you find yourself employing techniques of fiction when you write? I’m not asking you to categorize yourself into a genre, but asking a larger question about narrative — does narrative make a prose poem closer to flash fiction? Where is the line? Are you able to make a distinction between the two? I myself find it very hard to distinguish, and refer to my own short prose pieces as prose poems, but if an editor of a particular magazine wants to accept them as flash fiction or CNF I’m cool with that also.

Jose

I think there is a grey area with a longer prose poem or a shorter flash fiction piece. I personally don’t feel the need to draw strict lines or labels. I tend to leave it at: shorter work is prose poetry and longer work is flash fiction. To me prose poetry is a hybrid piece simultaneously interested in both elements of fiction and poetry. Some prose poems lean more poetry some lean more prose. My head spins every time I try to break it down into exact mathematic or scientific equations or definitive definitions.

Karan

You are famously a practitioner and lover of prose poetry — would you say what is it that most appeals to you about the form? It is my favorite “genre” to write and read. I think a lot happens within these blocks, especially within the surreal-absurd style. Also, would you tell us your favorite prose poetry masters? Get as specific as you like — which books of theirs should we be getting to? I’m reading Rimbaud’s Illuminations, Charles Simic’s The World Does Not End, Richard Garcia’s The Chair, Luke Kennard, Leigh Chadwick, Mary Ruefle, Lydia Davis, Russell Edson, and a few others. But I’d love to expand this list and make it more diverse.

Jose

I love the sense of freedom, exploration, play, melancholy, experimentation, duende, sprezzatura, flow, discovery in prose poetry. Some of my favorites: James Tate, Shivani Mehta, Marosa di Giorgio, Ray González, Mary Ruefle, Charles Simic, Harryette Mullen, Ada Limón, Richard Garcia, Sabrina Orah Mark to name a few.