filling Station #84 : let slip the dogs

 

Hey America, How Are Your Stones?

Sometimes the bicycle swirl of a landscape unfurls hot
butter – edge – white – wax – smear – mushed 

into cloud          //          there’s a mountain out there

catches the eye even from a semi
barrel-rocket of goods boxed into a flare jean 

the urgency makes you solution-oriented

                        // 

Every time you leave like a video game (Meredith MacLeod Davidson)

It has been a while since I’ve more regularly discussed an issue of Calgary’s legendary literary journal filling Station [see my review of #83 here; my review of #81 here; see my review of #57: showcase of experimental writing by women here, etc], but I am trying to get better at it. Did you see all the posts up at The Typescript celebrating filling Station’s thirtieth anniversary? Thirty years is a long time for a journal, despite the handful of journals that have made it far longer (Arc Poetry Magazine is well over one hundred issues, for example), but always worth acknowledging a birthday, especially for a journal founded by scrappy youths passionate about experimental writing, and producing a journal that has continued entirely with that founding aesthetic. Yes, I said it: filling Station is and always has been run by scrappy youths passionate about experimental writing, both in Canada and well beyond. Built with their usual array of “poetry, fiction, non-fic, review, interview, project, art,” filling Station #84 provides a showcase of established and emerging, some of whom I know well and others I’ve never heard of. Virginia-born Scotland-based Meredith MacLeod Davidson, for example, is a poet entirely new to me through these pages, as is Northern Ontario poet Erin Wilson [although a quick search provides that I actually interviewed her two years ago], who has two poems in this particular issue, including the poem “Tenebrae,” that begins:

The watering can beads with rain.
Slugs slowly ruin the gibbous rind of the pumpkin. 

Put your black nylon socks on your cold black feet.
Think think think, charcoal, in darkness.

Further, there’s Calgary-based poet, fiction writer and editor Chimedum Ohaegbu, and her poem “Culpable, Too, the Minutes,” that begins: “My innocence on the abacus / although you’ve already deemed me / wolf. Courtroom drama / as directed by Internet questionnaire: / How often do you feel seen?” Otherwise, I think everyone should be reading the work of Montreal poet Misha Solomon (who has a couple of chapbooks out, with a full-length poetry debut out next year, you know, with Brick Books), or Brooklyn-based Canadian poet Michael Chang [see my review of their latest here], both of whom have new work in this particular issue. Or there is Toronto writer Sneha Subramanian Kanta, with the three-stanza/paragraph piece “Three Broken Sonnets: Escape Room City,” a lyric and narrative swirl of layer upon layer that includes: “Two cups of hot chocolate arrive in / ceramic glasses like we were drinking a warm beverage in the home / of a friend. No one befriends another in this city because they don’t / have time. The evening streets are quiet although hours are porous. / I have begun to understand the concept of time as not being finite.” As ever, if you wish to know what is happening on the ground when it comes to contemporary writing, one could not do much better than paying attention to the little magazine, and filling Station (alongside The Capilano Review, Geist and FENCE magazine) remains high on my list.

Michael Chang, Things a Bright Boy Can Do

 

HERE WE GO FOREVER

cody who goes both ways

they say familiarity accelerates impact

in secret huddles

tender kid w/ the kind tan

poached pears

vanilla ice cream

who was wearing the flip-flops?

i’m illiterate b/c i didn’t have a high-school boyfriend

she smiled when they asked but

it’s hard to get by w/ that kind of sincerity

in the wet warm place

hand-hold ur thing iz a sandwich

free rein in the blast hole

the mary jo bang

From Manhattan-based American poet and editor Michael Chang, following titles such as Heroes (Temz Review/845 Press, 2025), Toy Soldiers (Action, Spectacle, 2024), SWEET MOSS (Anstruther Press, 2024) [see my review of such here], SYNTHETIC JUNGLE (Northwestern University Press, 2023) and EMPLOYEES MUST WASH HANDS (GreenTower Press, 2024), is the full-length Things a Bright Boy Can Do (Toronto ON: Coach House Books, 2025). I’m all for cross-border conversation, obviously, but it is always a curiosity to see a Canadian small press produce a full-length by a non-Canadian poet (which means it wouldn’t be eligible for Canada Council funding, putting the financial onus on publishing such a title entirely on the press, something few publishers are able to take on). It doesn’t happen that often, and it suggests the press is seeking to expand its reach, both in terms of foreign sales and attempting to bring an author into the Canadian literary conversation (although that might be an overly generous speculation on my part), especially given this particular title appears to be a unique edition and not, say, a Canadian edition of a title simultaneously appearing with a publisher in the author’s home country (such as with Coach House publishing a collection of essays moons back by American poet C.D. Wright, or Anansi publishing a poetry title by British poet Simon Armitage). With chapbooks produced over the past two years through Temz Review/845 Press and Anstruther Press, as well as an author biography that cites publication in Canadian journals such as Capilano Review, Contemporary Verse 2, the Ex-Puritan, The Malahat Review and PRISM International, Canadian literature is certainly paying attention to Michael Chang, as much as Michael Chang seems to be attending Canadian publishers; perhaps a move north is being considered? [edit: I have since been informed that Michael Chang is actually Canadian]

Or perhaps I make too much of this; or perhaps, even further, borders mean not what they used to when it comes to how books are seen, distributed, articulated and sold (beyond the current tariff nonsense, of course). On the surface, the poems in Chang’s Things a Bright Boy Can Do are accumulative, whip-smart, hurt and funny, sassy and queer, comparable in many ways to the work of New England-based poet and editor Chen Chen [see my review of their 2023 collection, Your Emergency Contact Has Experienced an Emergency, here], speaking first-person lyric monologues around emergencies and histories, childhood recollection and literary interveavings, violence and linguistic measure, cultural references and expansive gestures. “i detect your silence,” Chang writes, as part of “ATONEMENT,” “you you practiced // personification of ALLURE // fresh face pummelled red & teal // according to that distant sheepdog narcissa [.]” There is the sass, the casual glance and gesture of the deeply felt, deeply considered; the highly-literature “flirty to righteousness, wrathful to lackadaisical,” providing an echo between the two, but in Chang, something different, as well: something looser, almost freer, allowing for the movement of the gesture to direct the narratives. “Matthew DICKMAN was so upset he could not stand,” the expansive and gestural “BABY DRIVE SOUTH” writes, “Michael DICKMAN was investigated by another agency due to / a conflict of interes // Paul MULDOON told you his horse was larger than yours // CACONRAD sent anthrax to Betsy DeVos &  was awarded / the Medal of Freedom [.]” At turns thoughtful, joyful, meditative and silly, Things a Bright Boy Can Do offers a perspective on how one might live best and simply be within the world, within the moment, whatever else might be happening or happened, or even yet to happen. Or, as the poem “KING OF THE WORLD” writes, just at the end: “on this day // we go back to our old routine [.]”

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Michael Chang

Michael Chang (they/them) is the author of SYNTHETIC JUNGLE (Northwestern University Press, 2023) & THE HEARTBREAK ALBUM (Coach House Books, 2025). They edit poetry at Fence.
​
1 - How did your first book or chapbook change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?

My debut chap, DRAKKAR NOIR, came into existence because I won a contest.  It was an eye-opening introduction to publishing, and the phenomenal people at Bateau Press took great care of me.  

It's not up to me to say how the work is or feels different.  I think the books demonstrate a natural evolution in my process.  I'm trying to get at those same obsessions (not my favorite word) and concerns but from different angles.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or nonfiction?

I didn't have the patience for anything else.
 
3 - 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?

I don't think of them as projects, exactly.  The writing comes in waves, and always hard and fast.  I don't do "drafts" because I don't revisit poems after they are written.

4 - 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?

For the most part I don't like themed books because the themes are often silly and the books grandiose and self-aggrandizing.  In my own practice I tend to write until I have a critical mass of poems that I can bundle together in a collection.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
 
I avoid readings unless I'm supporting a friend or have something to promote.  

6 - 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'll write about anything and everything and do it with a critical eye, a strong point-of-view that could only be mine.

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?

The role of the writer is entertainment.  You should make people feel good, but it's okay to also make them uncomfortable and reflective in their positions.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

The editor-writer relationship must be governed by mutual admiration and respect.  I have a very clear idea of how I want things to look, sound, etc., and editors know that coming in the door.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?

Sometimes people act not out of malice but out of stupidity.

10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?

No routines beyond days earmarked as Reading Days or Writing Days.  I keep those separate.

11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?

I never stall but imagine watching a good movie would bring me back.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Right now it's Serpentine by Comme des Garçons and Rose & Cuir by Frédéric Malle.

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 don't talk about influences or references. Folx can (and should) draw their own conclusions from reading my work!

14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?

I don't talk about other writers, either.  I am highly focused on my own practice.

15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?

Run for office, maybe.

16 - 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?

Something in fashion, probably.

17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?

Because nobody else is doing what I'm doing.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

Diane Seuss's new book, which she very kindly sent.

Probably the Taiwanese movie Your Name Engraved Herein -- heartbreaking but also lends itself to repeat viewing.  Visually terrific.

19 - What are you currently working on?

A full-length collection, which is coming together very nicely.

Also getting my next book ready for publication in -- hopefully -- early 2025.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

Ongoing notes: late February, 2024 : Michael Chang + Ethan Vilu,

There are only THREE DAYS LEFT in the VERSeFest fundraiser! But you already knew that, yes? And the schedule for this spring’s VERSeFest: Ottawa’s International Poetry Festival (March 21-24) will be announced very very soon!

Toronto ON/Brooklyn NY: I’ve seen work by American poet and editor Michael Chang around for a while now, so it is good to finally get my hands on a small collection, the chapbook SWEET MOSS (Anstruther Press, 2024), following collections such as SYNTHETIC JUNGLE (Northwestern University Press, 2023) and EMPLOYEES MUST WASH HANDS (GreenTower Press, 2024). Jim Johnstone’s Anstruther has been leaning into publishing work by more Americans these days, I’ve noticed, allowing for a particular kind of cross-border conversation within the bounds of his press, one of the more active chapbook publishers in Canada. The seventeen poems that make up SWEET MOSS shift in structure, from prose poems to more traditional line-breaks, each of which offer accumulations of first-person statements. Chang’s poems write in a kind of propulsion of direct statements, sly commentary and observation in a language condensed, communicating with the immediacy of social media or text messages. “if the gods are watching,” Chang writes, as part of the poem “SPECIAL SNOOZE,” “I’m not allowed to be too happy // I’m not sure why I think this / Probably something learned from television [.]” There’s an element of Chang’s lyric lined with input from every direction, whether culture, social media, relationships and travel, attempting not only a through-line but a line through. Perhaps, through Michael Chang, one might manage, and even maintain, a degree of clarity through all the external noise.

SMOKE IN JAPAN

the man u loved
died in a war
of ur own making
downturned mouth
mess of fallopian tubes
yes but have u heard of
staring in the same direction
chanting NO HOPE FOR US !!!
we’re full
of special moments
that end
in a matter of hrs
a place in nature
we can finally meet
pegged by peggy
hootin’ for hooten
heads in clouds
in flagrante delicto
the battys in the club
peep ur finest garb
seething assured
a hit dog will holler

Toronto ON/Calgary AB: The latest from Calgary poet, reviewer and editor Ethan Vilu, following the longsheet, A Decision Re: Zurich (The Blasted Tree, 2020), is Drawings From Before The Red Year (Anstruther Press, 2024), an assemblage of short narrative scenes with a clipped lyric. Vilu’s poems are lean, and precise, a sketchform of lines enough to see the whole portrait, even the spaces not drawn. Taking their content from the online fantasy game series, Elder Scrolls, I’m surprised there aren’t more poems composed across further elements of pop culture (although the list of those composing poems for superhero comic characters are fairly short, also), specifically online gaming, something Leah MacLean-Evans has been working for a while (I’ve been awaiting a chapbook or collection of some time) and Ottawa poet IAN MARTIN, who has been exploring both gaming and programming. “In my skull I hear the clattering of bad fables. Dark signal,” Vilu writes, to open the poem “Galtis Guvron,” “scrabled scar. Down the stairs, a messenger approaches: // blood on her hands, a translusccent musical name. A siren // siphoning from the stars.” Vilu’s poems here are sharp, serious and playful, and one might wonder if there might be a full-length collection-to-come, perhaps, one that might even allow certain readers an entry point into poetry, from online gaming. The opening lines of the poem “Drarayne Girith,” might even serve as a kind of ars poetica for Vilu’s explorations through gaming: “I stop just short. // Clipped writsts, ragged staff, crushed tongue.”

The Docks Outside Vivec

Ambrosial, this sea breeze –
salt, anther pollen and pearl.

Linen and wood
form a necklace to collar the cove.

straight ahead: the heather patch,
the sigil-stone, the sky-vibrant beach

and the wide bridge,
tense and time-honoured,

carrier of secrets,
working to cast off its burden.