Tommy Archuleta is a native northern New Mexican. He works as a mental health therapist for the New Mexico Corrections Department. Most recently his work has appeared in the New England Review, Laurel Review, Lily Poetry Review, The Cortland Review, Guesthouse, and the Poem-a-Day series sponsored by the Academy of American Poets. Susto, his full-length debut collection of poems, published by the Center for Literary Publishing, is a 2023 Mountain/West Poetry Series title. He is also the author of the chapbook, Fieldnotes (Lily Poetry Review & Books, 2023). He lives and writes on the Cochiti Reservation.
1 - How did your first book change your life?
One’s first kiss. One’s first fish. One’s first day of school. Whatever the right of passage, the body absorbs, then records them all, etches them onto stone tablets, stone culled from a quarries nowhere near Ohio.
Why for—who knows?
Perhaps they’re given to the mind for later playback over those final few breaths.
Perhaps they’re sold outright to the unconscious who then trades them to the soul for Mozart’s unscored cello concertos.
Perhaps nothing much changes beyond our noticing how much the road we’re on narrows as we go in contrast to the ever-widening, ever-expanding horizon.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
Not far from where they found me the first time I got lost, lies a fire road that was cut long before Eustacio Ortiz, the first ore miner, “courted” Delilah Rose. And along a certain, short section of that road lives a cake of air thrice colder than the air before or after it. Who can be blamed for believing one comes to this particular brand of cold, but no—with enough time and pressure, one arrives at the realization that said cold was both never and always there, and anywhere else land, air, and water might care to meet.
3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project?
151.7 milliseconds.
Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process?
37 years ago, at a bus stop on the corner of 42nd Avenue and Hollis Avenue, Oakland CA, an old old man in black shoes and white socks, said the following words:
“When you get to a certain stage, you’ll regret more what could’ve said rather than what ended up saying.”
Two days ago, and 37 years later, I heard the above words.
Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
Orchid:
seed germination
root growth
leaf
production
flower spike growth
bloom stage
dormancy
4 - Where does a poem usually begin for you?
As one enters the Cochiti Reservation on foot, from the West, the earth there is redder than red. Nowhere else for miles and miles and every direction is this the case.
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?
Yes, and, also—I touched a frog once.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process?
“Knowing one’s own
darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other
people.”
--C.G. Jung
Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I’m the sort of writer who enjoys being read to.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing?
I’m concerned about birds in midflight freefalling to the cold, hard ground.
Alternative facts vastly concern me.
I’m concerned the Sandhill Crane won’t know where to fly when soon autumn feels as warm, or warmer, than summer.
I’m concerned I’ll be at work when my father’s last few breaths arrive, finally.
7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture?
If we’re talking about a human writer, writing on the planet Earth, then I can’t think of a better role than writer, nor can I think of a better larger culture than Earth.
Do they even have one?
As far as I know, all writers have two of everything.
What do you think the role of the writer should be?
I think the writer should avoid processed sugar and illicit drug trafficking.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
If a higher power doth exist, then a lower one, too, must exist.
9 – What is the best piece of advice you’ve heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
Avoid, at all costs, staring directly at the sun for any length of time.
10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one?
As far as I know, all writers have two of everything.
How does a typical day (for you) begin?
Through the ringing, now in both ears, and the wavering
hum of lower earth:
the caws of dawnlit crows lifting off.
We’re not built to sit still for too long, either.
Nor are we born broken.
And barely do we come equipped to survive
whatever might fly out of our own godgiven mouths.
It’s going to hail soon. You can feel it.
11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
Sorry—that’s classified information.
12 – What fragrance reminds you of home?
Human and/or goat blood.
13 - 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 once touch a frog that David W. McFadden once touched.
Translation: I once touched David W. McFadden’s frog.
14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
I work as a therapist in a prison. Some of my clients are serving life sentences for having murdered another human being, to include several human beings. Clients of this sort often send me poems because they heard that I write poems. Few things in this life move me more than reading the poems of men who experience the outdoors belly-chained while in five boot by 12 foot iron mesh cage for one hour a day.
15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
I’d like to apologize to at least two frogs.
16 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be?
I would kill to be a Vanda Orchid.
17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Early childhood trauma.
18 - What was the last great book you read?
As for Dreams by Saskia Hamilton.
What was the last great film?
19 – What are you currently working on?
A pocket dream dictionary.
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