Michael Russell (he/they) is the queer, mad mother monster behind two chapbooks, gallery of heartache (forthcoming from 845 Press) and Grindr Opera (Frog Hollow Press). They are the coauthor of chapbook Split Jawed with Elena Bentley (forthcoming from Collusion Books). He has a heart full of rainbows, unicorns and chocolate chip pancakes and they want the best for you.
You can read he wanted something beautiful in the July 2024 issue.
Would you like to tell us a little bit more about your poem? For instance, how or why you wrote it, or perhaps provide some extra context?
he wanted something beautiful is a blending and reworking of two poems that weren’t working on their own. After playing around for a while, I noticed they worked well together. They clashed and synergized and created an interesting collage when I stitched them together. I wanted them to feel symbiotic yet distinct, but I didn’t want the reader to think they were reading two different pieces. So, I played with form, spacing and punctuation to vary speed, tone and urgency. I wanted the poem to mimic a mind ignited by emotion and memory—how it slows, pauses, speeds up, and contemplates. The poem centres memory and the ways we find safety and comfort in difficult circumstances. It finds the speaker longing for the familiarity of connection and safety even though the familiar is painful.
As a poet, what does creative success or achievement look like for you?
This is such a loaded question. We’re bombarded by so much rejection and at the same time, quietly told our work and identity as poets only has merit if we are accepted through the eyes of another: publication in a literary journal, a book contract, fancy awards etc. The poetry world as a system is incredibly guarded and gatekept while also feeling like some kind of Hunger Games-esque Casino. Realizing this helped me redefine my expectations of success. Am I being authentic to myself and my voice? Am I writing the things I want? Need? Am I refusing to hide? These are the questions I ask when I concern myself with artistic success.
What are you working on now?
I have a chapbook coming out soon with 845 press called gallery of heartache. It explores my father’s murder, the collision between daddy grief and father grief and escapism. I also have a collaborative chapbook with the fabulous Elena Bentley forthcoming from Collusion Books, date TBD. It’s titled Split Jawed and it’s a long poem that explores disability, the body and queerness. Other than that, I recently finished a companion chapbook to gallery of heartache titled The Dead Time Carousel.
Oh, and I’m still searching for a home for my full length poetry manuscript.
Are there other art forms that inspire or inform your poetry?
I am such a leech for cross-genre inspiration, hah! I find music to be a huge muse. I also draw from comics, visual art, television, anime, movies. I find it so necessary to use mediums outside of poetry to inform and shape my poetry (not just for references in a poem, but for the poem itself, the poem’s engine, if you will, its form.) This allows me to create poetry that is more accessible and (attempt to) mimic the excitement and energy found in other art forms.
How do you make space for poetry in your daily routine?
I always try to remind myself poetry is everywhere. Using this as a mantra helps me look for the little poetic nuances in life around me. My actual writing practice is closely tied to the rhythms of my health. When I’m feeling good and stable, the writing flows at a steady pace. Shifting my focus away from having a daily “writing practice” to making space for poetry in my daily life has been self-compassionate and inspiring. Whether I’m making notes for a future poem, writing something down that inspires me, diving into some books or literary journals, observing and receiving, or simply living my life I feel I’m cultivating poetry on a daily basis.
What are you reading or watching or listening to lately that intrigues or inspires you?
I’m catching up on my TBR pile. I recently finished Terrarium by Matthew Walsh, The Repoetic: After Saint-Pol-Roux by Benjamin C. Dugdale and Beast at Every Threshold by Natalie Wee. Each was entirely different from the next and were all delicious page turners. I’m also reading the graphic novel Wonder Woman: Dead Earth and am quite disturbed and intrigued.
Other than that, the new Billie Eilish and Beyonce albums are both on repeat. I’m finding a lot of inspiration in the tracks that have multiple transitions and switch ups, they feel like songs within songs and that excites my writing in a way that’s difficult to describe in this moment.
Have you ever received advice (or has there been something you’ve learned on your own) about writing or revising poems that has made you a better poet? What was it?
I had a poet friend tell me “know when to pull back” This advice was so profound and earth-shattering because I have a flare for the dramatic, cinematic and I’m in love with throwing fireballs 24/7. It really got me thinking What happens when you strip down a line? A phrase? A poem? I started seeing more power in the smaller, quieter moments in my work. This advice still makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable because it stirs this naked feeling inside me—that’s why it’s so valuable.
In terms of poetic style or craft, is there a big question you are trying to find an answer for?
I’ve been pretty obsessed with sequels, shared universes and things connecting to other things lately, so recently I’ve been thinking about the concept of bridging the gap between poems and projects. How do you build a world in the same universe without necessarily creating a sequel? Can these worlds speak to each other, clash and conflict? Coexist? I recently completed a chapbook length MS that tries to answer these questions and more. It serves as a companion to my forthcoming chapbook gallery of heartache (845 press.) So, we’ll see if it finds a home and if it succeeds or if I fail miserably! Muhaha!