I was alerted to the fact that Michael Earl Craig was the current Montana Poet Laureate via a Facebook post by the (great) poet Christopher DeWeese (check out his illuminating new collection The Father of the Arrow is the Thought here). DeWeese’s announcement caught me a bit by surprise, mainly because Craig isn’t your traditional state-laureate-type. (If there is such a thing, of course. Stereotypes only beget more stereotypes.) Not because he isn’t invested in contemporary poetry and the spreading of its various wealths far and wide—he definitely is. More so because he doesn’t have a full-time academic job and doesn’t reside in a major metropolitan city; he shoes horses for living and lives in the small town of Livingston, population 7,136.
Yet in thinking through my admittedly reductive first impressions, I swiftly came to the conclusion that, for the state of Montana, Craig is actually the epitome of a poet laureate. Montana is a state that prides itself on dualities. It is a rural state, somewhat sparsely populated—Billings, its biggest city, contains just over 115,000 people—yet at the University of Montana, it’s home to one of the most progressive and salient MFA creative writing programs in the country. (Craig himself got his undergraduate degree from the U of Montana.) It traditionally votes Republican in presidential races, yet its current governor, Steve Bullock, is a registered Democrat. As the Montana Poet Laureate, then, Craig occupies a similar position—he is both of the system and apart from it, able to provide a diverse poetic viewpoint that encompasses everything Montana is able to offer its citizens. Earlier this month, I asked Craig about his new job duties, his favorite words and how his brother’s profession as a professional comedy writer has impacted his own poetry writing.
At this point you’ve been Montana’s Poet Laureate for six or so months, right? If that assumption is correct, I’m curious if there are any commonly held myths or stereotypes about the position that you might be willing to dispel. During your tenure have you been inordinately busy promoting poetry in Montana? Or from day to day, week to week, what duties is the Montana Poet Laureate actually involved in? Are they pretty wide-ranging?
No, no myths or stereotypes to dispel, I guess because I’d never really thought about any of this—about the position of Poet Laureate. As for the duties, nothing specific is required of the PL. So far I’ve read in different towns—Billings, Butte, Helena, Los Angeles, Virginia City, Missoula and Livingston—and given a couple talks and a poetry workshop. I’ve also read/adjudicated for both the Idaho Commission on the Arts and the National Student Poets Program (based out of Washington D.C.), and I’ve started a Facebook page with the Montana Arts Council, which will get passed on to the next Poet Laureate. This (Facebook) is basically new to me, but it seemed like a good thing to get started. My posts are mostly inane (a brief video of a tethered horse neurotically licking his own face, for example), but it’s a way to reach out and pester people during the workday, which I enjoy.
You’re a farrier. You work with horses. You also, I’m sure, work with humans, but if horses did not exist your profession would not exist. All of which is to say that, unlike some other state poet laureates, you’re not an official member of the “academy.” Were you surprised to be nominated MT Poet Laureate? Was it something that you had your proverbial eye on or did it come as a mild shock?
I was surprised I guess. I definitely didn’t have my proverbial eye (or even one of my real ones) on it. But it’s been fun. While most of the MT poet laureates had (I’m guessing) been teaching somewhere, it’s not always the case. Henry Real Bird comes to mind. He’s a Crow Indian, and a retired (?) rancher. His readings are great. When he was PL he traveled over 400 miles on horseback giving readings and distributing books of poetry.
In a brief paragraph, how might you describe the current state of poetry in Montana? Are there closely connected writing communities throughout the state? Do the University of Montana’s writing programs play a big role? Or?
There are a lot of writers in Montana. Missoula, most likely due to the strong English department there (University of Montana), seems to have the deepest, most obvious writing community. But many towns across Montana have great little writing communities. And we have some fantastic bookstores, a lot of famous writers, and a couple book festivals that take place each year. So yeah, I’d say it’s a fairly lively scene here. The state is huge, though, with lots of distance between these events. So you can sometimes hear of an event that you really want to see, but it’s 4 (or 6 or 8) hours away and taking place on a week night.
That’s amazing about Henry Real Bird—especially traveling to readings via horse. I kind of doubt it, but have you ever done that? It’s also interesting that the MT Laureate position is essentially a “do as much as you want or can” type of gig, as I know state Poet Laureate duties vastly change depending on the state. (Tod Marshall, Washington’s Poet Laureate, made clear that he was happily busy.) So I guess I’m curious about your level of investment in the position—are you hoping to profoundly change hearts and minds in terms of people’s Montana poetic perceptions? Or instead are you just hoping to make clear to MT residents that poetry is still alive and well in the state circa 2016? A little from Column A and a little from Column B? Or? I guess I’m asking what your personal Montana Poet Laureate goals might be.
Well, I actually did ride a horse across Montana in 1997, but I wasn’t distributing poetry (my saddlebags were full of gumballs). I’m not sure the goal is to ‘profoundly change hearts and minds,’ actually, now that I think of it. I’m hoping that by simply getting out there and giving some talks on poetry, some workshops and readings, and by visiting some schools and interacting with young people, I will promote the art and maybe get people thinking about poetry in new ways.
I’ve asked this question to quite a few other poets before, but in curiosity’s interest I’ll ask it of you: do you have—or would care to identify—favorite words you return to again and again in your work? Words that you like, for whatever reason. I asked the same thing to Eileen Myles before, and she hates and won’t use the word “shard”—too stereotypically poetic—and likes and often employs “you” and “dog.” John Gallaher stated that he’s an equal opportunity employer; he doesn’t play favorites. Are there words, then, that you come back to again and again? Any words that you revile and won’t deign to write or type down? Or any “Montana” words you frequently use that poets from other states might not use as often?
Little. Tiny. Violently. Briskly. Slowly. These are all words (and only a handful of them) I catch myself using over and over, maybe too much. Sometimes I search for alternatives—you know, break out the thesaurus to see what my options are. But mostly I just give in. I allow the little cookie to shake both violently and slowly. Moist is a word I’m not fond of. Same with snack—have always had trouble with snack. I remember making myself use the word snack in a poem once and actually feeling a little brave afterwards. If someone says to me they’re looking for a moist snack I crumble. But crumble…crumble’s a word I like a lot.
This might be unanswerable but who is the quintessential Montana poet (living or dead) in your opinion? And why do you feel the way you do about him/her? How does he/she embody Montana poetry exactly?
Well I think I’d be lying if I didn’t say that Richard Hugo comes to mind first. When I first landed in Missoula in 1990, Hugo had been dead for eight years, but his ghost roamed the downtown streets at night, the bars, the halls and classrooms of the English Department. It’s funny because he’s more accurately (?) a Washington state poet, but his presence was huge here, and he has influenced so many people, poets and prose writers alike. When I first got to Missoula I remember going to poetry readings downtown and it was common for people to kick off their own reading with a quote or some lines or a whole poem by Hugo. Again, not just the poets. He wrote about the people, towns, bars, reservoirs, roads and rivers of Montana. He was loved. He comes to mind first.
When I interviewed him, the aforementioned Tod Marshall called Richard Hugo the quintessential Washington poet—so I guess regardless of the state, Hugo’s legacy lives on. Cool about your laureate goals as well…they sound fair but resolutely (and no doubt effectively) firm to me. A few ending questions about your own work—Talkativeness came out in 2014 at this point, eh? And I know in the past you’ve said that you don’t really think of your collections as “project-based” works; instead they’re simply a medley of poems you’ve written over a set period of time. All that being said, do you know what the title of your next book is going to be at this point? And if pressed how would you describe the poems in it? Modest or vast differences from your previous work?
At the moment I have no idea what the next book might be called; that will come later after I start looking things over. I’d love to say the new poems are vastly different but I bet they’re more like modestly different. Hard to say. I try not to think too much about that kind of stuff, although I do sometimes think about it. I want the poetry to change, to evolve, but not in a forced way.
Your first two books—Can You Relax In My House and Yes, Master—were, respectively, published in 2001 and 2006, and looking back over ten years later, I wonder how you feel about them. Slightly embarrassed? Ever-proud? Or? And do you think you can identify the ways (if any) you’ve changed as a poet since those first two collections came out?
I’m not embarrassed by anything, but I can see poems in those earlier books (in probably any of my books actually) that might not make the cut if I were doing them over again now. But we’re never in that position, are we—in the future, that is—when we are putting together manuscripts? And I’m okay with that.
Finally, correct me if I’m wrong, but your brother is a comedic television writer of some sort, right? (I remember years ago when we were hanging out in Lincoln, Nebraska you made mention that he was writing for Saturday Night Live at one point?) This is straight from left field’s peanut gallery, but does your brother’s comedic work ever influence your own poetic work? Or vice versa? Do you share your writing with him or does he with you? I guess I’m asking about influences outside of the “traditional” poetry world—familial or otherwise, any thoughts?
Yes my brother is involved in comedy—for a long while it was improv comedy (he worked at Second City in Chicago), then a brief stint at SNL, and currently he’s a producer at Warner Brothers. He has a great sense of humor and yes, that must influence. We both ate funny foods together in the seventies. And people like Peter Sellers, Steven Wright and George Carlin (to name just a few) were on my radar as a kid. Oh, and Monty Python! Comedy is complex—in many ways more complex than tragedy. Although I want to, it’s hard to truly trust a person who has no sense of humor.
Check out four poems from Michael Earl Craig’s latest book, Talkativeness, here.