What poets changed the way you thought about writing?
Two friends and mentors who helped me believe I could write are Sara Cooper and Long Chu. Both phenomenal poets in their own right, Long and Sara not only read my work and provided patient feedback when I had no idea what I was doing, they also introduced me to an array of poets that changed the way I read, write, and live.
Long lent me copies of Richard Siken’s Crush and Carl Phillips’ Cortège, which were the gay masterpieces I never knew I’d been waiting for all my life. Up until that point, most of my poetry immersion was from my French studies as an undergraduate. I enjoyed Baudelaire’s musicality and visceral verse, but Arthur Rimbaud was (and still is) one of my favorite writers. However, Crush and Cortège helped knock something loose in me, and I felt like I could actually write about myself, who I was. Siken and Phillips each bring a distinct beauty and candor to their writing, and that candor pushed me toward an unabashed reclamation of my queerness—something that, even in my mid-twenties, I hadn’t been completely comfortable with, and certainly not comfortable writing about.
Sara lent me a copy of Claudia Rankine’s Citizen, a stunning book that defied form and remains my go-to when I’m in need of inspiration on lyric mastery. Beyond craft and concerning the content, Citizen obviously challenged many of us to examine our whiteness, to recognize micro-aggressions, and to better understand the inherent racism people of color experience in our society. As a young writer and a cisgender white man, this was a pivotal book for me. It caused me to examine myself and my own behavior, while also putting a mirror up to my privilege—a reflection I’d been naïve to throughout my youth and into my young adulthood. So, without Sara and Long, I wouldn’t be a writer at all. And without Siken and Phillips and Rankine, I wouldn’t be the writer I am today.
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