Author of “*(for Simon Perchik)” (Volume XXX, 2026)

When did you realize you wanted to write? 

I was in 7^th grade. At the time I was listening to the band Nirvana and wanted to be a songwriter. I got the idea that poetry would help me become a better lyricist, so I started reading poets and writing my own poems.

Is what you write now the same as what you wanted to write when you started?

Yes, in that I write poetry still, but I think back then I imagined myself being more of a musician and songwriter than a poet. I still write songs for my band, The Codgers, but I really don’t feel like myself unless I’m engaging with poetry most days.

What is a favorite piece that you wrote? What is a favorite piece that you’ve read?

“A Woman on a Green Front Porch,” which was recently published by the brilliant poet and editor, Natalie Solmer, in The Indianapolis Review, is one that is really personally important to me. It recounts memories of my mother reciting poems on the porch of my childhood home in Detroit and has some intertextual qualities where I list poems and fictions that have impacted my writing.

I’ve been obsessed with King Henry IV parts 1 and 2 lately, especially the character Falstaff. There’s something so endearing and sad about an insecure drunk who masks insecurity with brilliant phrasings. There’s also something about a big talker in a barroom padding their resume, rubbing elbows with royalty. I’m sure there are other settings where such lovely, democratizing bombast exists, but I’ve spent so many hours playing music in west Detroit Irish pubs and have known many Falstaffs through the decades that I really enjoy those two plays more than I should.

How have other authors influenced your own writing and style?

I’ve been really influenced by the associative parataxis I find in poets like Rae Armentrout and Fanny Howe, both poets who trust their readers to make connections. Larry Levis has influenced me in terms of how he lets a poem be expansively narrative and also how he has such a deep allegiance to place. Robert Lowell’s poetry has taught me much about autobiographical writing, both how to do it in poems and how not to do it in a cautionary way.

How does using technology—Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, or even just your phone—influence how you write?

I still write with pen on paper when I put my poems through their initial drafts. There’s a necessary slowing down that accompanies this approach, but I have used the notes function on my phone to capture thoughts and images that end up in poems later. I have Instagram and Facebook, and the best things about those platforms is seeing what friends are writing as their work comes out in journals. 

What advice would you give an aspiring writer who wants to put their work “out there”? 

Don’t overthink it too much and cast a wide net; send out a lot in other words and don’t read too much into rejection. With that being said, only send to journals that are publishing work you actually like. Pour yourself into the craft though and spend time with drafts of poems; if there’s care and time put into the craft, those poems will find homes.

What have your experiences been like interacting with the publishing world? How about with student editors working on literary journals? 

I’ve been lucky to have had mostly positive experiences, especially with my current press, Cornerstone, which features several gifted student editors. As someone who cut his teeth working as a student-editor of Mid-American Review I think it’s great when presses and journals get student editors involved.

Where do you typically seek inspiration and guidance for your work?

I am lucky to have some wonderful responsive readers. I often send work to the poet Michael Lauchlan, who is a wonderfully thoughtful and generous reader. My wife, the fiction writer and essayist Sarah Pazur, is also often an early reader. I was also really lucky to have the poet Kevin Cantwell in my family, and his insights and advice have been crucial for me. Richard Tillinghast has been a wonderful mentor in recent years, and I’ve been really inspired by the cool prompts he’s given me. Taking walks in the Detroit River/Lake Erie watershed with the writer Peter Markus and his dog Moonshine has been a huge source of inspiration the last few years. Early on, my uncle Patrick O’Neill really encouraged me and his poems still inspire me too.

How do you feel about having your writing appear and read alongside other works in a literary collection? 

It’s great! Of course, when I see some of the talented accomplished folks in some of the anthologies and journals I’ve been in, I can get a bit of impostor syndrome, but I think that’s a healthy thing at the end of the day.

If you could have a drink or a chat with any living author, who would it be? Why? 

I’m getting beers with the poet and fiction writer Steve Hughes next week, so that’ll be a good time. I’m really curious to meet David Dodd Lee in person. I loved his book The Bay and feel like we’d have a good visit if we were ever in the same place to grab a shot and beer. I love this line in his poem, “Fur”: We were surveilled in / a dive bar last night in the middle of winter // by a carpenter ant who then fell into my / mug of beer… 

Do you have any professional advice for prospective authors seeking to be published? What did the process of getting your first published work look like?

I’d say worry first about writing the kind of work you want to read; what kind of writing doesn’t yet exist that you’d like to read. Aim for that. I think if we bring ourselves to write according to this principle, it’ll find a home. I’d also say that once you have work you’ve invested in, send it out to a bunch of places, keeping careful records of course should you have to withdraw a piece. Finally, don’t compare and despair.

My first real publication was a long poem about Henry Ford and the labor movement in Dearborn/Detroit that came out with The Minnesota Review. It was a poem I’d spent two years writing and revising while in grad school at Bowling Green. I’d sent it around to a few places and gotten form rejections, so it was a real thrill when it got accepted and they did a wonderful job with it.

How do you manage writer’s block?

I don’t really believe in it. I think it’s merely the inability to allow ourselves to write nonsensically or badly. So I guess I get around it by letting myself write badly.

What do you think makes a story or poem “good”?

It’s so nebulous, but I think most poems I like avoid anatomically erroneous figurations involving the heart.

Is there a book, story, or poem that changed your perspective on the world? If so, did it influence your writing and/or the way you write?

Jerry Dennis’ book The Living Great Lakes changed the way I viewed and understood the region where I was born and raised, namely Southeastern Michigan. That book provided me a lexicon that could name and describe the places I move through in my daily life and raised the stakes for me in terms of what place-based writing can achieve.