From the May Issue, “Crown for a Natural Disaster,” by Amanda Smeltz.
1. In those moments you feel you are too stupid to write a poem, how do you stop yourself from doing it?
I don’t. I’m too stupid to know when to stop. I wanted to write as stupidly as I could, thinking about sophistication’s being so prized. It’s just childlike defiance.
2. Why did you involve yourself in your poem?
Because I am a human, therefore utterly self-involved. What does it look like to uninvolve yourself from a thing you make? If someone says, this isn’t about me, they’re lying.
3. Do you trust more in Michael Jackson or Madonna?
I don’t trust in either of them! I love their performativity, not their reliability. MJ I find more compelling, as his work seems a hall of mirrors refracting around his pain-ridden upbringing and family life. I don’t know if Madonna has a biography beyond the cone boobies. Kinda wish she did.
4. How is your poem the tits? What exactly is ‘the tits’?
You know, like this thing is ill, tight, sick, dope. The tits, it’s just noun as adjective. But also I got tired of hearing about tits from certain individuals, like that shit was cute. So I made it cute. And hopefully a little savage.
5. Would you live every week like it is shark week?
BITCH I AM SHARK WEEK!!
6. How would you catch a tiger poem?
You can’t. If you can catch it, it isn’t a tiger. It’s probably a limpid pigeon poem or something.