Showing posts with label Matt Robinson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matt Robinson. Show all posts

20221020

An interview with Matt Robinson

Matt Robinson has published six full-length poetry collections, including Tangled & Cleft (Gaspereau, 2021) and Some Nights It’s Entertainment; Some Other Nights Just Work (Gaspereau, 2016), in addition to numerous chapbooks. He has won the Grain Prose Poetry Prize, the Petra Kenney Award, and The Malahat Review Long Poem Prize, among others. He is on the editorial board of The Fiddlehead and he plays a fair bit a beer league hockey. He lives in Kjipuktuk (Halifax, NS, Canada).

What poets have influenced the ways in which you write?

There are a number of poets I really enjoy and who have – in one way or another – influenced the way I write. Likely too many to list, but I will try. I’ll also immediately think of others after the fact. I love John Thompson for his stripped down, almost sinewy lyrical attention and use of metaphor. I really appreciate Sue Goyette’s longer line lengths, especially in her earlier poems. Gerard Manlet Hopkins – yes, a Victorian – is also a favourite because of his play with lanaguge and image and sound. I also love Plath’s confessional tone. And Wallace Stevens’ almost cool analytical intelligence is also a strong nfluence for me. Then there are all the current folks out there who are writing amazing poems who influence me with each new book I pick up from my local indie bookstore.

Have you noticed a difference in the ways in which you approach the individual poem after you begain publishing full-length collections?

Not really? What I can say is that I’ve come to realize that I’m really – at my core -- a poet of individual poems, as opposed to a poet of larger collections. Aside from my very first book – which had its genesis as an MA thesis, and my one collection comprised entirely of hockey poems, I simply chug along writing individual poems that eventually get bundled up like a bunch of scattered sticks into a critical mass long enough for a collection. I come up with a poem here and there and gradually a critical mass starts to accrue. I think that sort of thought process and the nature of my writing is occasional in at least one sense of the word? After a while, I find there’s almost some kind of unifying theme or aspect of a certain group of poems that at least loosely hold them together as a “collection”.

You sit on the editorial board of The Fiddlehead. Why do you see such roles as important, and what have you learned through the process?

It’s mostly about community and conversation and fostering those two things. I’ve been involved with The Fiddlehead in various roles for years now and it’s amazing what you get to see and read. It’s also neat to follow folks from initial submissions to journals, to publication, to having collections out and such.

How important has mentorship been to your work? Is there anyone who specifically assisted your development as a writer?

Mentors are always key, whether explicit or implicit. It’s tough to target just one person, but I’ll go with Ross Leckie. He has had a huge influence on me. When I was at UNB, he was a more senior poet I looked up to not only for his rigorous attention to and understanding of metaphor, but also for his incredible dedication to building up poets and poetry communities. He’s also really generous in helping poets become who they want to be, voice-wise, as opposed to trying to mould them into something they aren’t? Ross has had a massive impact on poetry here in Atlantic Canada and across the country as far as I am concerned.

Can you name a poet you think should be receiving more attention?

All of them, really! There are so many great voices out there, doing incredible work in so many ways. It’s hard to pick one. But I’ll stay hyper local: Annick MacAskill is a fabulous poet who just released another collection with Gaspereau Press: Shadow Blight. But there are others, too, like Nick Selig, a younger guy who hasn’t really even published a chapbook or book yet, who are also making great poems. Folks should just read as widely and as often as possible.

20220815

SATURDAY MORNING, JANUARY

 

Matt Robinson

 

 

 

Post-storm, the new year’s sun—a soft heat
through the window—toasts the squint
lost sleep of your brow. The dog again, somehow,
sigh-purrlicued behind & against you, a warm
hint, in the near permanent dell—the sunk
weave—of your chair’s cushion’s fur-fetid
funk. She’s all belly & organic heave, a sigh-
manic white noise: a whole mood on huffy junket.         
Poised to gulp more of too sweet morning
coffee, there’s then that moment when Saturday’s
soundscape crescendoes & goes all-at-once,
twice, askew. A spin cycle’s engaged with a click;
Fortnite’s first-personing echoes anew, joy-
sticked down the stairs; your wife’s thumping
a far room’s desk into being, moving chairs
& spare parts. The dog starts & then settles,
a kettle on the verge of calling the day’s pot’s
matted black, but then doesn’t, having thought
better (not at all?) of that smack-talking
gambit.           You think you’d be fine, if—
you suppose—you ended right here, right
now: with this sun’s simple heat, this
dog’s metered breath, a family’s indiscreet
shifting through inane tasks & routines
on this fine, bright, early day. But you want
all the more now to stay: stay & curse
the icy idea of death, of being a stupid guest,
a minor character, in the crude whimsical acts
of your body’s dumb play; fear mostly the way
you’ll at some point never know—the hows,
the whens & the whos; future’s splay—of
what’s just now, right now, again now, again
now, become dear—become clear, post-storm,
in the new year’s soft heat.

 

 

 

 

Matt Robinson has published six full-length poetry collections, including Tangled & Cleft (Gaspereau, 2021) and Some Nights It’s Entertainment; Some Other Nights Just Work (Gaspereau, 2016), in addition to numerous chapbooks. He has won the Grain Prose Poetry Prize, the Petra Kenney Award, and The Malahat Review Long Poem Prize, among others. He is on the editorial board of The Fiddlehead and he plays a fair bit a beer league hockey. He lives in Kjipuktuk (Halifax, NS, Canada).

20220711

SKATE SHARPENER’S PANDEMIC LAMENT

 

Matt Robinson

 

 

                  It’s damage as cottage
industry gone ghoulish, as far as I'm concerned;
this sideline of mine’s—I’ve learned—a way
to get out of the house on nights, on weekends,
whenever I can. But it’s past high time I re-evaluate
my plan: I read somewhere how the death of a star’s easy
to confuse for the birth of a cell, if you only glance—
too quickly—or you maybe just squint? I’m skint,
what with all these latest restrictions & shit. Worn
down & tuckered. My net worth’s in the can. I’m all edges
& angles—everything’s a bit of argumentative math:
grumbling cos, sin & tan—a matter of sickened physics,
slant-wrangled attacks & a cruel-tooled, daily grind.
My books? You’ll find them a flint about to spark
the bone-dry kindling of my anxious mind. A kind of
fool’s errand, this constant cutting & cutting along
gleaming, steeled quicks. Each & every new shift’s a test
of my mettle, a weight my filing hands can’t balance,
can’t settle along the shining crest of someone else’s need
for speed or purchase. It all rings hollow. It may be time
to cut my losses, is my guess.

 


 

Matt Robinson has published six full-length poetry collections, including Tangled & Cleft (Gaspereau, 2021) and Some Nights It’s Entertainment; Some Other Nights Just Work (Gaspereau, 2016), in addition to numerous chapbooks. He has won the Grain Prose Poetry Prize, the Petra Kenney Award, and The Malahat Review Long Poem Prize, among others. He is on the editorial board of The Fiddlehead and he plays a fair bit a beer league hockey. He lives in Kjipuktuk (Halifax, NS, Canada).