Roberto Montes is the author of I DON'T KNOW DO YOU, named one of the Best Books of 2014 by NPR and a finalist for the 2014
Thom Gunn Award for Gay Poetry from The Publishing Triangle. His poetry has
appeared in The Volta, Guernica, The Literary Review, Whiskey Island, and
elsewhere. A new chapbook, GRIEVANCES, is forthcoming from the Atlas Review TAR chapbook series.
How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work
compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
Publishing has so little to do with poetry it is important to undergo it
every once in a while. I don’t mean this to sound negative; it was mostly a
positive experience for me. But there is so much push and clamor for
publication in the culture of MFA’s and fellowships that we never have any time
to discuss what it actually means.
Both for the work and for the poet. What do you gain and what do you lose? The
most concrete thing I gained was the muted respect of my psychiatrist after my
book showed up on the NPR end of the
year list. A person stands to lose a lot if they allow that kind of valuation
to swallow them. I’ve seen poets win an award or get a publication and then
begin chasing that same kind of success by reproducing the works that got them
there. Some people call this ‘finding your voice’ but, in my opinion, the voice
you find in those situations is rarely your own.
How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or
non-fiction?
By accident! I took an introductory poetry workshop in undergrad taught by
the amazing poet Rebecca Morgan Frank. My original concentration was fiction
but after that class I switched to poetry. It helped that my fiction was
terrible.
How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your
writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear
looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious
notes?
You’ve hit a sore spot. For the first book all my poems came in short
bursts nearly fully-formed. Over time I began to write longer, sprawling pieces
that drag on for days. I tend to edit as I write so it’s sort of a
back-and-forth as the lines go on. It is like a colony of ants building a
bridge with their bodies. I oftentimes have no idea where a poem is going until
I hit the other shore. And then, just like that, it’s over.
Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces
that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a
"book" from the very beginning?
In the past I’ve stumbled upon engines more so than single poems. For
example, I became infatuated with spam for a period of time—the way they so
expertly prey on our insecurities and clotted hopes—and that led to 30 or so
poems. In the first book I happened upon the phrase “One way to be a person is”
and that led to a few poems. I’m in an awkward in-between, really. I write
series that are too short to be books but too numerous to be one-offs.
Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you
the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I am a ham so I love reading. I do admit,
however, that when I read I view myself as first and foremost a performer of
sorts. It’s not that I think “serious” poetry can’t be shared in a public space
but when I always choose poems to read that I think are engaging and can be
performed. It is strange because I have a few poems that I genuinely like but
will never read because I don’t think they’re suitable to that environment. The
written word plays with a different affective space than something spoken. I
think both are interesting and have their merits. But they should not be
confused.
Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of
questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the
current questions are?
I do not think poetry can answer anything. Not to be gooey, but, I think
poetry operates in purely in an interrogative affective space. I try not to
engage in theoretical concerns because I believe that can lead to a strangling
of that space in a way that helps no one. The closest thing that I have to a
theoretical concern is the belief that good poetry exists in such a way that it
saps power from the powerful and gives power to the powerless.
What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture?
Does s/he even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
The writer should write. I privilege poetry over the poet so I don’t
concern myself so much with how an individual should act or what role they
should occupy. As a rule, though, whatever role a poet feels they should have
in the world is probably the wrong one and I encourage them to avoid it at all
costs.
Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or
essential (or both)?
A good editor is invaluable. The further from you they are aesthetically the
better. When you are reduced to pleading “but
that’s not what I was going for”
it really forces you to view the work in a manner you wouldn’t have if your
editor just ‘got it’. Sometimes I think I use aesthetics as an excuse for
laziness or to enter the poem and ham it up. Someone who doesn’t share your inclinations
can bend your poems in really interesting and necessary ways.
What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you
directly)?
“Another poet’s success does not take from your own. So fuck it.”
(paraphrasing)
What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one?
How does a typical day (for you) begin?
I write in-transit, mostly. I used to have an hour train ride to and from
work every day that I dedicated to writing and editing. It was amazing! I
recently moved, however, and my commute is much shorter so I’m having
difficulty writing as much as I used to. Writing is such a superstitious act it
is so strenuous when you are forced to change your rituals!
When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack
of a better word) inspiration?
Fear.
What fragrance reminds you of home?
There’s a particular dish my grandmother would make: picadillo. My partner
and I are vegetarian so when we make it we use veggie ground beef but, somehow,
the smell of the spices still rings true.
David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any
other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual
art?
I have a great interest in the lives of mathematicians. I feel a strong
connection with those who work for years to discover the mechanics of reality
using only inscrutable symbols.
What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your
life outside of your work?
A few poets who invigorate and inspire me: Jenny Zhang, Natalie Eilbert,
Wendy Xu, Sara Woods, Joshua Jennifer Espinoza, Eduardo Corral, Carrie Lorig, &
Rigoberto Gonzalez.
What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Realize myself in such a way that, when I’m done, I can simply unlace my
body of existence.
If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or,
alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a
writer?
I have no idea. From a very early age writing was something that I bent
toward. I cannot imagine an existence other than the one I have. Sometimes I
imagine what it might be like for people who don’t have poetry but then I freak
the hell out and am forced to imagine something else.
What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
^ ^ I never had a choice.
What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
What are you currently working on?
I am working on a full-length manuscript
and editing a chapbook, Grievances.
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