Eric Schmaltz : part five

How does a poem begin?

A poem begins as a noise-laden signal. A poem begins as a faint weight on the fingertips of a sleeping hand. A poem begins as a hyperlink in blue. A poem begins as a quiver before a question. A poem begins as the letter p.

Eric Schmaltz : part four

What do you find most difficult about writing poetry?

The most difficult part of writing poetry is not writing poetry. A poem first arrives as a phone call from an unknown number with poor reception; it is a voice that is difficult to decipher. I listen and feel an urgency and longing to know the voice that presents itself. I desire to fulfill the demands of the poem but I must sit, listen, and wait on the line before the static clears and the poem begins to emerge. Sitting and waiting can be the most difficult part.

Eric Schmaltz : part three

What other poetry books have you been reading lately?

I’ll mention two recent and compelling reads: First, Aditya Bahl’s Name-Amen, a beautifully designed and published chapbook by Malmö-based small press Timglaset Editions. This book of visual poems––in which language is fractured, overlain, magnified, reflected, and refracted––confronts the English modernist tradition and emerges from a “very painful and traumatic breakdown of the language [Bahl] had been working with” (n. pag.). Second, The Awful Truth by Diana Hamilton is part-long poem and part-novella, and navigates the complex relationship between author and self and the problems of exercising control over either of those figurations.

Eric Schmaltz : part two

How do you know when a poem is finished?

I tend to distrust the idea of a “finished poem” since so much of my own work is about process. As someone who occasionally publishes his work, this is a bit of problem since publishing tends to suggest that a poem has been finished. I think of publishing as an act of sharing and an opportunity that privileges the writer to feedback on the work. In other words, publishing, for me, is part of a mode of inquiry and a way of seeing what pings back. I find it generative to continually rework the form, medium, and content of any given poem to see what springs into being through processes of gradual modulation.

Eric Schmaltz : part one

Eric Schmaltz is a poet, artist, and critic who works across a variety of genres and media, including print, sound, performance, and video. His work has been published in Jacket2, The Capilano Review, The Berkeley Poetry Review, Poetry is Dead, Lemon Hound, and Trinity Review. His first book of poetry and text-art, Surfaces, is available from Invisible Publishing.

What are you working on?

At the moment, my new work is focused on the various ways material environments are written and how they also write themselves. I’m particularly interested in investigating the poetic potential afforded by “communication graphics” and the use of graphic signification as an extension of language.