My childhood was permeated with stories. I loved to see the heroes triumph and the villains get their comeuppance. Some stories made me sad because they happened to people I loved. In them, the heroes remained unsung, the villains went unpunished. I came to understand that telling a story about one’s painful past was an act of defiance. A story does not right an injustice—it makes it known. It is an affirmation of survival. This poem is a tribute to my father who lived to tell me his story.
Romana Iorga on "Bread" |
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A Conversation: Matthew Gellman & Jim Whiteside
“I loved being able to have my own private conversation with myself, to let my mind wander, to say things that nobody could overhear or judge. I think, in a way, a queer childhood provides painful but valuable instruction on how to be a poet: we learn early the power—and often necessity—of solitude. It’s an art form that, while deeply communal, also requires a lot of soul-searching and problem-solving on our own when we sit down to write.”
viaTHE ADROIT JOURNAL |
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What Sparks Poetry:
Vincent Toro on Language as Form
"Form is not merely shape, it’s concept. It’s not merely a concept, it is a vessel for culture that transmits the values and ways of a people....When our own forms are marginalized or entirely ignored while an oppressor culture forcefully imposes their own forms on us, some of us are going to act reflexively to such an action, and some of us are going to make it a mission to reclaim our own forms and create space for them to be appreciated and respected in equal proportion. This is, in part, the reason for my devotion to the décima." |
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