Q: What was your writing process like for this poetry book? Was it different from your last one? Do you have a regular writing routine? Do you write solo/in a group, indoors/outdoors, morning/night?

A: my writing routine is the same with all my books. i just write poems. i don’t organize my poetry. the first poem is the first poem i write for the manuscript, and the last is the last. i don’t believe in organizing my poems. you cannot organize the days of the week. i let my poems live how they were born. the only thing i do that is not organic is i pull out all the shit poems once i feel finished with the manuscript; sometimes it takes time to see that a poem is not good. i end the manuscript when i feel like the book is long enough, or if i am in a mood to say it is done. i write whenever i am inspired. i never sit down to write poetry; i don’t force myself to write, or write for a specific reason. i enjoy writing in the chaos.

Q: You write on themes of queer desire, but also queer loss. house as a cemetery navigates the speaker being treated as “cancer” by his lover’s family, wishing someone who was dead was reading the manuscript instead, the replacement of a sanitized hospital bed instead embraces (“between sheets”). How is this important to showcase for queer readers and writers—and why?

A: the first poem in the question you’re referring to “the enormous room” is my breakdown on how some families perceive their children and who they love. they’re ashamed of their children and can’t acknowledge who they are. the narrator in the poem, a gay man, even though he is hated and blamed for his boyfriend’s death, still inside of him has love for the mother and wants acceptance from her. my poems, as i said, are just poems and they are all unrelated to one another. the cancer poem is just something that came to me and i enjoyed the imagery of it. sometimes we let people who are going to die lay in the hospital and we forget about them as people. no one wants to die in a hospital. i hope one day we are all free and equal and happy.

Q: You reference Ginsberg and Dickinson— both fantastic poets for their propulsion of forceful imagery and brevity. Are there any writers you are inspired by?

A: yes, i was inspired by both of them when i was a younger poet. this made me think of my section with the titles of poet’s names. i had a fun time watching documentaries of poets and then once the documentary was finished i’d write a poem about whatever it inspired. today i am inspired by living poets. it is so hard not to give up in today’s poetry world. the hypocrisy and the high school mentality is really tiring. also, we should celebrate all the poets who can see that we recognize and cherish them. no poet should be held high once they die, when we can do it while they’re alive. also, quit filling the space up with dead poets when there are enough living poets to be excited about.

Q: “each finger taps on my skin like hooves & your eyes bleed a sunset/that makes my horizon” and “now all i have is your darkness.” make up dream-like similes in your poems. I am noticing you use simile a lot. Things are always like things more than being themself. Is that purposeful? Are these poems meant to represent a dream-state? If there are only points of view, rather than an objective truth, as Ginsberg posits, what point of view do you aim at?

A: reality sucks. reality is no fun to live in at the moment. also it is fun to make something more extravagant. a tree can be more than a tree. and death can be the beginning of a life. honestly, i am not sure why i am so obsessed with similes. it is just how my brain works, expands, and comprehends things. i enjoy expanding the ordinary. my poems are meant to represent whatever the reader sees in the poem. interpretation is the most beautiful thing that anyone can give me after reading my poems. i love interpretations because my poem grows out of what i wrote it as. i always tell people to let the poem speak to them and show them what the poem wants to show them and to never try to read my poem with how i wrote it.

Q: Your poetry also reads like someone who listens to a lot of music– or at the very least, finds inspiration in lyrical style! What musicians are you most inspired by and/or what are some great musicians you have listened to recently to inspire your work?

A: i am listening to sofia isella as i answer these questions. i love music. i love getting feedback on how my poems are “lyrical” because honestly i have no clue about poetic terms, and my poems just come out as they do. i let my poems do as they want. my brain tells me how such things should be and i don’t argue. sometimes it is like two minds live in me: the human and the poet. most the time i have not the slightest clue what i’m doing. i am amazed at the poem after i read it. i listen to all kinds of music, except country and gospel. folk, indie, alternative are quite popular on my list of things to listen too.

Q: One of my favorite poems while reading through this was ‘we do not have auditoriums’ in your upcoming book house as a cemetery. I really do believe the trees listen. But I think it also shows that there is a tacit connection between death and poetry. In reading to the trees, you unlock a memory of crematoriums, either for the trees or for yourself. Like motherless poet E. Brontë’s poem ‘The Night-Wind’, where nature, death, and lyricism are inextricably linked. But unlike the windows of ‘The Night-Wind’, which remain resolutely open, at some point in ‘auditoriums’, “our mother closes the windows/as the air begins to choke us.” This is an awesome line. How do houses (and mothers) keep us from nature?

A: i’m glad you enjoyed that poem. it makes me sad. trees are living creatures that most people could care less about. whole forests are demolished for human use. the field beside our house when we were growing up was full of trees. then someone bought the property and cleaned it all out and turned it into an open field and then burned all the trees they did not want. they did nothing with the open field. when i was younger i’d get lost in the woods, in those woods that were sawed down, in the trees, in the beauty of nature. it is peaceful and life is chaotic. the trees listen. our mother closed the window because the smoke began to suffocate us. there were eight to ten huge piles of trees, so much burning. the trees bodies were being decimated and no one cared.

Q: Your poem ‘fuck the mfa’ from house as a cemetery is a stirring paean to the organically grown poet. MFA culture has become an insidious symptom of today’s credential culture, and the credentialled (rich) poet is nearly too sad to consider. What would you do with the approx~ 37000 dollars USD it costs for a piece of paper to show people you write good? What worldly feat would you prefer for people to undertake in order to prove that they are indeed a poet?

A: we don’t have enough time or space for me to empty my thoughts out about what i think about the mfa, academia, and the takeover of the poetry world. it is a shame. a poet is a poet, you cannot produce poets. i am sick of seeing so many shit poems, all written similarly, except the poet’s name is different. these factory-made poets couldn’t write a good poem to save their life. my poetry backs my ability up and instead of spending all that money on a waste of time, i’d tour! 

Q: house as a cemetery will be published at Rebel Satori next year. What are your experiences publishing through a third party, indie, trad or whatever? What would you like to see less of and/or more of in your publishing experiences? How do you feel you work best as an author in literary circles?

A: i absolutely love my publishers that have published books from me, and am honored they took a chance and believed in me: Pressed Wafer, Ghost City Press, Flowersong Press, Rebel Satori Press, Blood Pudding Press, Ethel Zine & Micro Press, Between Shadows Press, The Grindstone, Small Harbor Publishing. i am obsessed with indie presses (and not the presses who want to be indie but are more middle bound presses like Alice James Books or Copper Canyon Press or Four Way Books, who accept your manuscript and then want to do what they want to do with your poetry). i enjoy working side by side with the press and learning things along the way. indie presses become your family. they do what they do because they love what they do. i enjoy having a say in how my book is published: cover, blurbs, style. my experience with publishing has mostly always been good, because i befriend the poet, get to know them and let them get to know me, learn how they work and then ask if they’d like to read a manuscript. i always let them know that they should not accept me because we are friends. those acceptances are not real and are meaningless. i become friends with the publishers because i believe that a publisher should not just publish a book, but also have a relationship with the poet. a book is more than just poems. i would like to see less of pandering to the big poets and more equality amongst all poets. we should all have an equal opportunity to win awards, fellowships, grants, and other things that we apply for. there is a lot of good poets who get looked over because they are indie poets. my goal is to bust through all literary circles and drink a martini with everyone. my goal is to make the poetry community one stage with all of us who need to be there standing side by side, as equals, not competitors.

Q: Do you have any other works that are upcoming of yours and/or someone else’s that you wish to share with the world? Something we can give a shout out to in the near future and for readers to be on the look-out for?

A: read poetry, not poets!

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John Compton’s new book my husband holds my hand because i may drift away & be lost forever in the vortex of a crowded store is available through FlowerSong press.