Xavier Cavazos’ Barbarian
at the Gate, selected and introduced by Thomas Sayers Ellis as a 2013 Poetry
Society of America Chapbook Fellowship Winner is on the one hand
a fine collection of poems, showcasing the wide range of this poet’s craft—
he’s got an ear for capturing the musicality of the spoken word, its rhythm and
sounds, and the manual dexterity for expressing these auditory possibilities on
the page. These poems are, as Sayers’ notes in his introduction “an excellent
example of form becoming pour and pure gymnastic joy for readers interested in
the incremental possibilities of breathing, written collage.”
But on the other hand Barbarian
at the Gate is also a fierce and angry collage—a paper grenade of letters
and sounds—an “oral downpour of ideas on the page,” a literary fuck you to
“fixed Western traditional forms.” Xavier Cavazos is the illicit graffiti
scribe spraying the underbelly of those foundations on which civilization rests
its claims. Cavazos brings us the
barbarian that has his/her own
language and culture and aesthetic beauty & which so-called civilization
has been ignorant or unaware of.
Cavazos’
barbarian--which is by definition bound by his/her inability to use language--
brings words alive--”sifting through the debris of the broken, the chaotic”--
proving that indeed “something beautiful can come out the chaos of pain and
loss.”
(To purchase a copy of the winning chapbook click here.)
(To purchase a copy of the winning chapbook click here.)
***
Lauro Vazquez: Congrats
on the winning chapbook Xavier. And thank you again for agreeing to the interview,
I’ve been looking forward to it for a while now. What can you tell us about
this project in terms of its genesis and of the process of converting that
first kernel into a finished manuscript?
Thank you Lauro, I want to first say thanks to
you, Letras Latinas and Francisco Aragón for all you do! It’s a real honor to be associated with
you guys. And of course a big thanks to Thomas Sayers Ellis!!!
Ah, from the first kernel to now. Well it had to
start when I went back to college as a thirty five year old freshmen in 2005. I
had been tattooing for ten years prior to going back to school and my tattooing
career ended suddenly and very traumatic. In short, I was falsely accused in a
missing-person, suspected-murder wrap. I would probably be in prison right now
if the person’s body was never found, but fortunately for me, they found the
person’s body and I was cleared of all suspicion. It was a nightmarish time in
my life, drugs, violence, lots of creative expression with painting and
tattooing but I was lost emotionally, spiritually and behaviorally to the grips
of addiction. So after my tattoo parlor was raided, and even after I was
cleared, the trauma and the cloud that followed me from what had happened was
so severe that the only place I felt safe from ridicule was on the campus of
Central Washington University. I had a good friend, Dr. Bobby Cummings who is a
professor there and she was very positive and always like you need to stop with
all this foolish stuff and get your degree and start teaching and start
mentoring students who came up from similar struggle or background, so I did.
One step at a time at first and then a full sprint, I suppose I’m still running
now. In five years I had a bachelors degree and then applied to MFA programs.
So one-way of looking at things is, I wouldn’t be here today if not for
addiction and my miracle-escape from the grips of it and the rediscovery of
life through education, family and faith.
But it was there on the campus of Central
Washington University where I started to transform my life. I got married and
started having kids, which fulfilled my life in ways. I also went through a
spiritual “deliverance,” sort of like an exorcism. In a deliverance, spirits
who are oppressing you are forced to let go. I believe that spirits such as
abandonment, lust, hate, or perversion attach themselves to people who are lost
spiritually and who frequent places where these spirits dwell. You have to
believe(faith), for it to work and I would say this was the biggest factor of my
turn-around, the healing and direction I received from the deliverance was more
powerful and beautiful than any hit of dope. It was also there, at Central,
that I started writing the poems that would become Barbarian at the Gate. The poem, “29 Clinton Street,” was actually
my address in NYC, at the time, it was the hottest street in the city to score
dope, so the deck was stacked against me. I started to write that poem when I
came back to Washington in 1997 and was kicking heroin and cocaine at my parent’s
house for the first time. It wouldn’t be my last time kicking but all
recovering addicts will tell you relapse is a process of recovery and it was
for me too. So that poem began there but was dropped as I left back for the
world of addiction. So it was one of the first poems I picked back up with in
2005. My teacher and awesome poet, Katharine Whitcomb, started to help me shape
a body of work that would be my MFA application and it was really those poems
that would become Barbarian at the Gate.
Before I started tattooing I was a slam poet, I
was part of the first wave of the early 1990’s resurgence of the Nuyorican
poets café. Poets from that time were Maggie Estep, Tracie Morris, Paul Beatty,
Regie Cabico, Willie Perdomo, Edwin Torres, Reg E. Gaines, Beau Sia, Hal
Sirowitz, Crystal Williams and others. I
can’t speak for all of them but I was basically a student of Bob Holman and “A
Gathering of the Tribes,” founder, Steve Cannon. We would workshop our poems
every Friday night over at Steve’s place and Bob would lead the workshop. Some
of us, of course got more out of it than others. Sort of like the more time you
put in the more benefit you got from it. I also just hung out alot at Steve’s
place hearing all the people talk who were around. On any given day/night
Stanley Crouch, David Henderson, David Hammons, Ishmael Reed or Butch Morris
would just be there chillin-out. Tribes is definitely an institute of Higher
Education. I was the 1995 Grand Slam Champion of the café and benefited greatly
from my time at Tribes and in that workshop but I burned out on Slam Poetry and
burn-into drugs and idiotic behavior and then when
everyone-who-lived-on-the-Lower-East-Side’s dear friend, Allen Ginsberg died, I
went into a bigger depression and fall. The reading in NYC to launch the
chapbook will be my first time back since 1997.
When I went to a MFA program I didn’t want to be
pigeon-holed as a slam poet because I saw what that could do to you in
academia, It wasn’t until I started running into old friends from NYC at AWP
conferences, that my major professor, Iowa Poet Laureate, Mary Swander, even knew I slammed. We ran
into Ava Chin in Chicago and Ava was a slam poet at the same time I was and she
was telling Mary about my past and then when Mary and I rode on the bus back to
Ames from Chicago, she was like why didn't you tell me you used to slam! Funny, but also sad that someone from slam
would feel the need to hide that. So those poems, (slam-ish in aesthetic and
style), were put away and I started to write in a voice that I thought my
teachers in my MFA program wanted from me, which of-course is silly to do but
its what happened to me and I think in general it is a tendency or a problem
within writing programs. I heard Eduardo C. Corral talk a bit about this as well
when he visited Iowa State, about not writing in his true voice based on what
others were doing (He said it much more lovely of course). So these poems
didn’t get much attention during my MFA time. “Boardwalk,” and “Motherfuckers”
were the only poems I wrote from the chapbook while I was a student. “Sanford,
Florida” I got to add post-award on the suggestion of Mr. Ellis and by the
permission of the PSA. In fact, when I was submitting to the contest I had made
three chapbooks. The first two, were the ones I thought were my strongest based
on what I thought academic poetry wanted. Those poems were mostly exercises in
restraint, which was exactly what I needed at the time but not my true voice. Barbarian at the Gate was not even going
to get sent in but I was like why not, funny thing is that the eleven poems
barely made the minimum page-limit! Craziness! And blessedness! But the actual
finished product is a collaboration between myself, Thomas Sayers Ellis, PSA’s
Brett Fletcher Lauer and Poet, Elizabeth Macklin, who super copy-edited the
whole thing.
LV: The phrase
“barbarian at the gate” as I understand it dates back to the Roman Empire, to
how the romans organized their cities and defined themselves versus the
foreigner. What can you tell us about the title of the chapbook?
Yes of course the Romans coined the phrase and in
a lot of ways the title of the chapbook comes from a reaction that I am not of
the ruling government, in-terms of race/entitlement but also in terms of the
Western Literary Canon or even the Academia of Poets or camps that separate
performance poetry and schools of poetry which is both foolish and dangerous.
But the real answer goes back even further than that. All roads lead back to
Homer and the Odyssey don’t they? Homer’s Ulysses is from Ithaca, and the poem
“Ithaca” by Greek poet Constantine P. Cavafy, who also wrote, “Waiting for the
Barbarians” is really why the chapbook is called Barbarian at the Gate. I think for twenty years I was
subconsciously living Cavafy’s “Ithaca” poem in an effort to reach the
self-actualization of “Ithaca.” I was also mesmerized by Thomas Cole’s “Course
of Empire” paintings and I think my chapbook is, in a way, a response to those
paintings as well. But the final answer to that is when Elizabeth Bradfield was
visiting our MFA program, she asked me the title of my manuscript (full one at
the time) and I said Barbarian at the
Gate and La Habana Dreams, and Liz said, Oh, I like the Barbarian at the Gate part. So I dropped the last part and now I
have Liz Bradfield to thank for the title! So thank you Liz! She is an awesome
poet as well!
LV: The word
“barbarian” is of Greek origin. Meaning “a foreign way of speaking.” What
differentiates the barbarian from “civilized man” is language, is, I suppose,
the ability to communicate, to wield the word both in its written and spoken
forms. But is also more than that, isn’t it? Its about who wields the power to
define what language is. For Xavier Cavazos, who is the barbarian and what does
he/she speak? And where does poetry fit in in this conversation?
Great Question Lauro. A few years back, when I was
still a grad student I wrote a proposal
for AWP in Chicago. I was working on a proposal that focused on writers that
constructed art from destruction. Debra Marquart, one of my major professors
here at Iowa State University and I were exploring the process of sifting
through the debris of the broken, the chaotic, all while trying to make
something beautiful out of the chaos and pain of loss. The panel didn’t get
picked up but it did start me to think about this idea in a very deep and
profound way. I wanted to further explore the intersection of pain and
brokenness and the alchemy of making an artifact that endures time. An artifact
of beauty itself, through the pieces or fragments of something very ugly. So in
a way, I guess the language of the barbarian is a language of pain, loss and
protest. But to be more specific here, in terms of my manuscript, the language
is coded with all of the above but also concrete nuances and actions that only
the truly addicted will resonate with. This small collection of poems is for
them/us, the addicted, and in a way, to show that there is freedom, healing and
empowerment from the the grips of addiction. It’s hard/difficult to gain real
trust from addicts because they have been hurt so much but I had to try, had to
lay it all out there, “my go for broke self-autopsy” as Thomas Sayer Ellis
says, in order to reach them. Poetry is the vehicle for this message.
LV: What did your
background as a “slammer” teach you, on a level of craft, about being a poet
that you did not learn as an MFA poet? There is also “form” here isn’t there?
Well, Thomas Sayers Ellis says it best in his poem
“TWO MANIFESTOS” when he writes “A perform-a-form line breaks many times,/
verbally, before it breaks the last time visually. If/ written, it is more like
blood and bone./ If spoken, it is spoken more like stutter than song./
Perform-a-forms do not lie (on the page or on the/ stage, frozen in little
boxes or voices, unable to/ interact with the reader or listener, as if on a
table/ in a morgue.” So I guess the answer to that is slam taught me to make
each poem a piece of art, and to make that “Art” an intimate moment with the audience/reader.
Poetry has given me a career now as an educator and that is an honor and a
blessing. I think that my background as a slammer has also given me “other”
tools to help be an effective teacher. For example, when students are writing
comp papers, no one gets to turn in papers without reading them aloud in front
of the class, we workshop comp papers orally. I always say, if it sounds
funky/bad, it’s because it is funky/bad, and the effectiveness/response I get
from them is very positive and real. That’s the same thing we would do in slam,
oral editing. In the MFA program, I was able to start to shape those rants or
cries into art on the page. The two are not different at all, or as Ellis says
(and I’m poorly paraphrasing here), “The stage and the page are both made of
the same thing, trees!” and he’s absolutely right! But the greatest thing that
I learned from slam was intensity and honesty, to bring the most intense and
honest effort each time. I think (sometimes) in writing programs, this gets
left behind or forgotten about due to the fact that there is little time to write.
Ironic, isn’t it, you're in a writing program, and you spend most of your time
teaching, grading papers, coursework and straight survival mode. I’ll end on
another Thomas Sayers Ellis statement, “the hardest thing to teach writers, is
courage!” Slam taught me that.
LV: What do you mean by
“ sifting through the debris of the broken, the chaotic, all while trying to
make something beautiful”?
For some of us, and for myself particularly, that
is all we have, fragments of beauty. I had a wonderful mother and family who
surrounded me with love but I chose to seek out the underbelly of life and when
you do that, most of the time, you don’t ever make it back out. Most of my
friends from that time are either dead or incarcerated. I think this is why I
was able to be successful in school when I came back, because school is a lot
like like being institutionalized. I think the three years before I came back
in 2005 I was locked up for half that time, so when you're used to people
telling you what to do, when to eat and sleep, suddenly education looks like
freedom in more ways than one. Plus when I came back as a student, the only
place I felt safe was on campus, so I pretty much lived there and I still do
now. My family and I live in faculty housing on campus, I ride the campus bus
to school with all the other students, I advise a school club, so literally my
life is assorb with academia. It had to be that way at first or else I wouldn’t
have succeed, but now, after nine years
of putting my best foot forward I don’t believe I still need that level of
being controlled, but its just easier now this way for us, especially because
my family and I go back to Washington state for the summers.
The chapbook
itself--with its collage form, its “oral downpour,” does mimic something
broken, at least on the page itself. I
am speaking here of conveying a sense of brokenness at a visual level; there
are poems like “To-Be-Or-Not-To-Be” and “97 Words for Mahmoud Ahmadinejad” in
which the line breaks serve as fissures.
But I think--at least
for me--this sense of brokenness is conveyed more clearly by the musicality of
your language, I think it marries the two: the brokenness and the beautiful.
Thank you Lauro! That is really the effect I shoot
for. I’m working on a theory right now called Human Geological Poetics (HGP),
in which I claim all poetics/social actions come from a parallel process of
geological rock formations. So the igneous self, is what is passed down from
your bloodline, it is the soul that is forged in heat and deep within the body,
sedimentary rock formation is what happens to our behavior/personality as we
act out our daily lives, this formation is the weakest of them all but most
visible and finally there is metamorphic rock formation, this is what happens
to someone who goes through severe trauma, things that have so much heat and
pressure that it changes the original igneous formation of that person, this
one is the most violent. So you hit it right on the nose when you said my line
breaks serve as fissures, really the whole poem does for me. I believe that
because of the choices I made earlier in life, my life still becomes violent
and chaotic at times. Maybe now it is just more in my head, conflict that is,
but this conflict would always manifest in bad behavior. Behavior that was
detrimental to my progress as a human being, so I would explode like a volcano,
and just like in volcanoes, there are fissures that act as vents for the
pressure building up inside. These fissures allow the pressure to escape without
an explosion. That is what poetry does for me now; it is my vent, to keep me
from erupting. So far, it has worked and that is why I am trying to formulate
this through geological processes, a blueprint, if you will, for others who
have gone through parallel trauma as myself and can’t figure out why they keep
self-destructing. This theory is an effort to stop that recurring pattern. Poetry as therapy works! It saved my life.
LV: Speaking of
brokenness and of sifting through the chaotic; the chapbook sifts through
rubble that is at once personal and historic, that is driven by the performance
and sound of language as it is by certain beautiful and unexpected images as
well as “classic forms” of poetry. I am thinking of the sestina “Father’s Body”
or of images like (from “Barack Obama,” which can be viewed and heard here):
D is for Dantrell Davis & for all of the people, places
& things
that have, like the Donahue show, died & where
I first
learned about Cabrini-Green housing & tag-toe
Gangster
Disciple reaper boys or $10 Washington Ave. reefer
bags.
or:
N is for the fourteenth letter of the English alphabet,
birthed
in the Congo, transported in a slave ship, knocked
down like bowling-ball pins in Chicago, New Orleans,
Atlanta & Los Angeles. The letter was beheaded on MTV
& in the inner city by bling.
There are father’s
here, and the long historical arc of black history in this country, as
magnified Dantrell Davis--the innocent boy who was a victim of senseless
violence in the city of Chicago. What role does form and imagery play in your
desire to make something beautiful?
My subject matter is so personal/difficult that
sometimes I need form to sterilize the event or emotion from me. Not to say
that emotion is absent from the poem, it’s just the opposite. But what I mean
is that form allows for the writing to be a game of craft, and that’s one more
layer removed from the event. If I didn’t do that, at least at the beginning of
my pieces, than all the poems would become these horrible emotional wrecks on
the page. They become straight diary entries and not poems, so form helps me
keep the two separate. But I think it is also important to state, when talking
about form or truth that there is no obligation to remain faithful to either,
let it be your “Triggering town,” that’s all.
LV: I was intrigued by
your comment regarding accessibility, “the language [being] coded with nuances
and actions that only the truly addicted will feel and be able to resonate
with.”
Furthermore these poems are also coded with
“nuances” and references that point to very complex social issues. I am
thinking of the poem “Prime Poetics,” which makes reference to the repeal of
the 1933 Glass-Steagall Act which prior to the Clinton presidency regulated the
banking industry and whose repeal led buy and selling of “subprime mortgages”
and of course the Great Recession. The full-title of the poem is “Sun Prime
Poetics and Banking Dreams” and beside these great recession references the
also makes reference T.S. Elliot , Lacan etc. Why is that? & in general,
what are your thoughts on accessibility,
is it a struggle for you to decide how much access you want your readers to
have to this “coded language” ?
Well one answer to that is from an old Jamaican
song where the chorus sings, “The higher the monkey climbs the more he
exposes.” It’s a Jamaican proverb, the reference is really speaking about the
more successful you are to be mindful of your behavior because people are
watching. But I’m applying that thinking to academic poetry, sort of. Meaning,
when I got my first taste of none-accessible poetry (which was often), I was
like what the heck is this person even talking about, either by language or allusion,
the poem was completely cut off to me. Then, usually someone who was more
educated than myself would say, oh, that is an allusion to…. and I would be
like oh I see. Those poets are just showing how high they have climbed in
education without self-defecation and
because of that, they're easy to attack or rattle their “gate.” In a way their
language and lack of emotion makes them vulnerable to the masses. Later, when I
started to get educated I realized all those allusion were really coming from
the same set of books, the canons of literature, so what those poets were
really doing was having a private conversation with other educated people, not
“the barbarian” or the masses. I guess what I’m really trying to do by dropping
those references is to speak to both the educated and uneducated; I don’t want
to cut anyone out and the easiest way to not do that , is to use regular
diction! Phenomenal poet, Jennifer L. Knox, was just visiting my poetry class
and she said the exact same thing, so let me credit her for that little nugget.
Keep your diction colloquial! So in my
poem, “Prime Poetics,” you get:
Mock, mock, balk,
Fannie Mae & Freddie
Mac
smoke crack on K Street
and in the ghettos
of D.C. Countrywide &
WaMu
are the names of my two
new tutors
at school.
Mixed with:
So. . . Is this a love
song or
a wasteland? Proof rock
it!
P.S. idiot, not T. S.
Eliot,
this dream isn’t a Paulson
Wall Street
Georgie-Porgie bailout
stripped down
to bikini top presidential
politics.
So. . . Is this a
psychoanalytical systematic French
I need some deodorant
Lacan?
Or a Mexican con?
The last line here is totally calling bullshit on
government politics and all this elevated crap in the academia; it’s all just a
con, just a different type, intellectual con-artistry. Politics and the Canon
are full of this! It makes them feel safe and they shouldn't! Because as Cavafy
states in his poem, “Waiting for the Barbarians,”
Why isn’t anything
happening in the senate?
Why do the senators sit
there without legislating?
Because the
barbarians are coming today.
What
laws can the senators make now?
Once
the barbarians are here, they’ll do the legislating.
Don’t get me wrong, Education is ALWAYS good! It
transformed me and gave me the time to grow. There is real value in academia
and real value in traditional ways of thought, I just think, it is safer for an
artist to learn those things and then to do your best to forget them.
Otherwise, we are all just going to be little replicas of each other and very
inbred. So, initially, in the first draft of my poems, the poem writes itself
with the music of it, I follow my ear
where the poem wants to go. Literally, in this stage of the writing process I
try not to think too much and trust the poem’s own directional pull in terms of
music. As far as to how much coded
language to put in it, just enough I suppose. There needs to be an equal mix of
control and music. I mean in the poem “Prime Poetics,” if I were to read that
poem aloud in a bar, and in that bar there were a crackhead, a psychologist, a
Literature major and a Wall Street trader, all four people would probably like
the poem and be doing a little jive to it. Accessibility baby! Accessibility
with the diction, allusions, musicality, imaginative leaps and normal syntax
reordering, or as Richard Hugo called it, a “syntax wash, this keeps language
alive and not dead, words breath.
LV: All the poems in
this chapbook really have have two titles, “Barack Obama” becomes:
“Alphabet’s annunciations and advice to
BARACK OBAMA
after watching him take the oath”
“Prime Poetics” becomes
“Sub
PRIME POETICS
and Banking Dreams”
“Father’s Body”
becomes:
“From the porch where my
FATHER’S BODY
was found wrapped in a sestina”
Why do the titles
function in this way? Is the reasoning behind this aesthetic, as in
trying--again to sift through the rubble? Are they post-signs on your way to
“Ithaka”?
Oh, I’m so happy you asked that question. It’s my
“Mona Lisa.” My effort to contribute to
delivery on the page, in a unique way. Sometimes successful, but most of the
times not. The important thing here to remember, is to allow yourself the
confidence to push the norm of form. I would be lying if I said, I came up with
this on my own, it is a hybrid from what Van Jordan was doing in MACNOLIA. It was so funny, in my MFA
workshops, sometimes students would write on my poems, “this is called an
epigraph and this is how you put it on the page and…” I mean my fellow students
meant well and I would always just smile (most of the time). I guess what I’m
really trying to do with the titles is give context to the reader about the
poem with the tiny font that runs above and below the actual title, maybe some
information that would normally go in the notes section if there were one. And
you are absolutely right, they are post signs for myself and for my readers. In
the poem, “Father’s Body” I felt like it was important for the audience to know
that I was composing the poem looking at my dead father from the porch of the
house where he died. I wasn’t actually there with him but for a decade I was in
active addiction with my father and so it was easy to put myself there. My step-mother,
Ramona, took me to the house where he died, it was just down the street from
where they lived and she was really worried that I was going to do something
crazy to the house but those things you chalk-up to addiction. So In a way my
father’s death was the greatest gift he ever gave me, he showed me that we can
and do die in addiction. I’m by no means exempt from this, it really is one day
at a time. But the way the title works in that poem falls short a bit because
it end stops the the title and the beginning of the poem, meaning it doesn’t
enjamb down into the next line. When it
is successful, the title will act as both the title and a chunk of prose that
informs context and does not end stop on the last line before the poem starts,
instead the whole title enjambs down into the actual first line of the poem.
But like I said my success rate isn’t the best and I believe there is only one
example of what I’m talking about in the chapbook. In the poem,
“Motherfuckers,” I announce the poem as
“Motherfuckes,” then I take a breath and read, “To the/ Motherfuckers/ in
Little Havana/ who wanted Ozzie Guillén…” and the whole thing on the page
takes the form and function of one body, one complete object, one artifact, one
statement. I think? The rest of the poem titles in this chapbook try to do that
but fail because they end stop on the last line. You have to be your hardest
critic.
LV: I keep going back
to the titles, and I have to say the one for “Father’s body” with its trailing
“epigraph” “wrapped in a sestina,”--referencing your father’s dead body” really
wraps up this “road to Ithaka” thing doesn’t it? These are the fragmented, jagged, pieces of
beauty that are picked up on the way to Ithaka--the life-giving gift of poetry
found on the road itself. Yet I am also intrigued as to why chose a formal poem
for this? There is something about a “form” that is very dignifying but also
painful, its very painful toil to create these tributes isn’t?
Absolutely! Form allows for me to be a participant
in a game of craft and not be hindered by the pain of the event. The
journey/poem is for understanding and making sense of how we as a people
interact with each other. Marilyn Nelson did it best with her book, A Wreath for Emmett Till, the way she
used Shakespearean Sonnets, literary and social allusions to deliver those
poems was genius and allowed the audience to enter and stay emotionally
connected with the sequence of poems. But the form allowed the subject matter
to be present and accessible despite the horror/actions of the event. I want to
turn my poem, “Sanford, Florida,” into a children’s book. The subject matter is
so heavy that I think the best way to honor Trayvon Martin and his injustice is
to never forget what happen and to teach it to kids. So the children’s book
becomes the form and the vehicle to educate/talk about something very painful.
Form is very dignifying absolutely, for someone
like myself, it’s like wearing a suit. Form allows the speaker of my poem to
stay in the conservation with an audience that would normally not enter into
the poem without it’s formal element. You know, the people on the other side of
the gate.
LV: What are you
working on these days? Do you often write in series or are most of your pieces
individual endeavors? And finally what sort of advice would you give to poet’s
currently putting together a manuscript?
Well, write now I’m getting ready to help promote
this chapbook and Prairie Gold: An
Anthology of the American Heartland,
which I am one of the editors of and comes out in July. Writing wise, a friend
and I are working on another book proposal for an anthology of writing that
will highlight the mentorship and literary work of three East Village literary
canons; Miguel Algarin, Steve Cannon and Bob Holman. The Canons of East Third, is the working title.
And as for advice to poets who are putting
together a manuscript I’d say take your time, make sure that what is getting
written is worth writing about, something has to be at risk in the work, read a
ton, be honest, intense and original. Don’t equate publishing with success,
don’t let rejection validate anything! You can do it!!!!!!
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Xavier Cavazos earned his MFA in 2013 from Iowa State University where he served as poetry editor for Flyway: Journal of Writing and the Environment. Cavazos was a 2011 and 2012 “Discovery”/ Boston Review Poetry Award Runner-Up. His poetry manuscript, Diamond Grove Slave Tree, was a finalist for the 2012 Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize. The Poetry Society of America will publish his manuscript, Barbarian at the Gate, selected and introduced by Thomas Sayers Ellis as part of the PSA’s New American Poets Chapbook Series. Cavazos currently teaches poetry and composition at Iowa State University.
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