In The Field—Conversations With Our Contributors: Christopher Gaumer
In The Field—Conversations With Our Contributors: Christopher Gaumer
It’s always wonderful to have a graduate of our MFA program in Water~Stone! What sparked the creation of your poem, “On a Farm in Iowa?”
Hi, Jenn! It’s wonderful to be close to Hamline again through Water~Stone!
My family lived in Perry, Iowa until I was nine. My mom took my two older sisters and I to a farm just outside of town. I recall this being a trip where we were being given a bag of corn from church friends. At some point, we all stood in the long gravel drive beside a field of corn and watched a snake slowly consume a rather big frog. What I remember clearest is that the frog’s head was inside the snake’s mouth, the frog was not totally dead, and it took a very long time to swallow the frog. We maybe even left before the meal was complete.
The line, “old gravel road corn field killing, church friends,” lingers in my mind with this sharp edge. Can you talk about why you placed these phrases beside each other, and about the layered relationships that appear in this poem?
This is a description of the literal action of the moment and also, I realize, an image that begs one to draw more associations. This type of layering is why I love poetry. I crave ideas that are clear on the literal level and deeply suggestive.
There’s a theme of consuming within this poem—the snake and the frog, the corn, Seth and the narrator. How did you develop this thread in your work? What other themes do you find that your work revolves around?
The honest answer is that I did not consider this theme during the writing or revising of this poem. This is how I like to work in general: revise until the poem is surprising and a bit beyond what I understand.
You teach at Randolph college. What is a piece of writing advice that you always give to your students?
Risk huge leaps of logic because they activate the reader’s imagination to invent narrative connections.
What stories or books inspire you? Who are some of your favorite authors?
Bianca Stone, Diane Suess, Gary Dop, Karl Ove Knausgård
What are you currently working on?
I have a completed poetry manuscript titled M O N S T E R on submission. Writing wise, I’m working on a feature film script and ramping up, with a whole crew of people, to direct a music video for a band, New Boss, out of Charlottesville, VA.
Christopher Gaumer‘s poetry and creative writing appear in The Southern Review, Sugar House Review, No Tokens, The Cortland Review, McSweeney’s and elsewhere. Gaumer won the 2019 Poetry Society of Vermont’s National Poetry Prize and has fiction in the Best Microfiction 2019 anthology. Gaumer writes and directs films and music videos. He is a founding director of the Randolph College MFA and a graduate of the Hamline University MFA program.
In The Field: Conversations With Our Contributors—MICHAEL CHANG
In The Field: Conversations With Our Contributors—MICHAEL CHANG
Your poem, “Orchestra Maneuvers in the Dark,” creates an overlapping conversation and giving of information. Where did the inspiration for this poem come from?
The starting point for all of my work is vibes. I wanted a poem that felt tropical, but not in a cliched way. So I introduced opposing forces like the coats and the old fashioneds. I also wanted to bring in a political slant (Cuba, China, Global South), subtly. Other elements in the poem include bits of an interview I did with my friend Robbie Myers, who was the Editor-in-Chief of ELLE Magazine for many years.
The word “orchestral” lends itself to the layered nature of your piece. What is your revision process like within the ephemera of these phrases?
It’s strange to acknowledge this, but I’m very concerned with sound. I don’t think a lot of poets are. That’s why you see so much clunky poetry out there, particularly with poems that end on a weird note (usually a THUD!). In my own work I first get what I want to say onto the page, the bones of it. Then I tinker with how phrases weave and flow, delete or move things around based on whether they glide. The end product has to be smooth, neat (not “with a bow” per se but close to that). The reader has to be satisfied.
You use brackets as stage directions, in a sense. Is this a common tactic you use in your writing? When did you develop this practice?
I’ve done it in maybe one or two other poems. I was writing a poem that was more overtly sexy or physical, and imagined how my favorite actors would “do the scene” although they didn’t appear in that poem at all. I landed on “[breathily]” and was pretty pleased with that.
I love the opening phrase, “doctor-patient confidentiality but totally public.” What do you look for in an opening?
I like something that grabs your attention immediately, that pulls you into the world of the poem before you realize what’s happening. The tension in that line is really cool. I love operating in contradictions.
You’ve written several poetry collections, including Boyfriend Perspective (Really Serious Literature), Almanac of Useless Talents (CLASH Books), and Synthetic Jungle (Northwestern University Press). When building a collection, what do you look for?
My latest are two named TOY SOLDIERS, a full-length and a chap, from Action, Spectacle and Abode Press respectively. Forthcoming are THINGS A BRIGHT BOY CAN DO, from Coach House, and HEROES, from Temz Review/845 Press.
In my head I always start “projects” (bad word, but good shorthand) with the cover image in mind, what a prospective cover would look like.
For example: I walked by a gallery in Tribeca right before they were closing for the day and they were doing a show on Peter Hujar’s portraits. There I saw for the first time the image that now graces the cover of my chap-length TOY SOLDIERS (Christopher Street Pier #2 (Crossed Legs)). I knew I had to have it. I thought it would be a reach but the Peter Hujar Archive was very supportive and kind. So I guess it is that kind of manic energy when I totally obsess (another bad word) over something and the poems organically extend from or build off that.
Do you find that you return to similar themes in your writing? If so, what are they?
No. I don’t think so. I guess if you wanted to talk about it at a remove, a 30,000-foot level, then sure, maybe. But you would be able to say the same about most art.
I think my writing has a clear point of view. It’s a natural reflection of my views (political or otherwise), how I see the world, how I move about in that space.
My work also celebrates the people I care about, my muses, their beauty, how much they mean to me.
What literary works and authors do you draw inspiration from?
I’ve been reading a lot of translated poetry to train my brain to think differently.
What are you writing currently?
Because I’ve been reading so much non-English poetry, I’ve been writing shorter poems (what I call “smol”, poems under 14 lines, usually 10 lines or so). These days, less is more.
MICHAEL CHANG (they/them) is the author of Synthetic Jungle (Northwestern University Press, 2023), Toy Soldiers (Action, Spectacle, 2024), and Things a Bright Boy Can Do (Coach House Books, 2025). They edit poetry at Fence.
A Conversation with Joni Tevis—WSR Contributing Nonfiction Editor
A Conversation with Joni Tevis—WSR Contributing Nonfiction Editor
Water~Stone Review is a collaborative project of students, faculty, and staff at Hamline University Creative Writing Programs. In addition to working with our faculty, and to fulfill a larger initiative of providing a place for new/emerging and underrepresented voices at Water~Stone Review, we now have rotating contributing editor
This is a wonderful opportunity for our graduate student assistant editors to collaborate with renown writers in order to expand our reach and further innovation. Past Contributing Editors include Sun Yung Shin, Keith Lesmeister, Sean Hill, Carolyn Holbrook, Mona Power, Kao Kalia Yang, and Ed Bok Lee.
In this post we introduce Vol. 28 Contributing Nonfiction Editor, Joni Tevis.
Welcome! We’re so excited that you are our CNF Contributing Editor for Volume 28. The topics you explore in your work are varied. What is your writing process like when selecting and beginning a new piece?
It always starts with a moment of attraction to something small, but visceral. I know it when I sense it.
As a professor, what do you hope to impart to your students?
Pay attention! Pay attention to your life. Pay attention to the details that life throws at you every single day. Pay attention to what you read and how you react to it; you can always use that to work on your own writing. And be kind to yourself.
What draws you in when reading a nonfiction piece?
A sense of voice. I like to feel that someone is speaking directly to me. And I like to learn something from a piece of nonfiction that I didn’t know.
What are you currently writing or working on?
I’m revising a book of essays about living in epic times. This is a challenging moment, but we can learn from others—Big Mama Thornton and Janis Joplin, Robert Hirohata and Red Adair (the oil rig firefighter who put out blazes so ferocious they could be seen from space). We can do this work together, day by day by day.
A Conversation with Jose Hernandez Diaz—WSR Contributing Poetry Editor
A Conversation with Jose Hernandez Diaz—WSR Contributing Poetry Editor
Water~Stone Review is a collaborative project of students, faculty, and staff at Hamline University Creative Writing Programs. In addition to working with our faculty, and to fulfill a larger initiative of providing a place for new/emerging and underrepresented voices at Water~Stone Review, we now have rotating contributing editor
This is a wonderful opportunity for our graduate student assistant editors to collaborate with renown writers in order to expand our reach and further innovation. Past Contributing Editors include Sun Yung Shin, Keith Lesmeister, Sean Hill, Carolyn Holbrook, Mona Power, Kao Kalia Yang, and Ed Bok Lee.
In this post we introduce Vol. 28 Contributing Poetry Editor, Jose Hernandez Diaz.
Welcome! We’re thrilled to have you as a Contributing Poetry Editor for Volume 28, after publishing your poem, “Ni de aquí, ni de allá: ni de la pinche luna” two years ago. What is your writing and editing process like when you’re in creation-mode?
Lately I have been teaching generative workshops with my students. Therefore, I have been responding to the prompts as well alongside my students. My philosophy is just to get the words out there in the initial inspiration without overthinking and then go back and edit until I am satisfied with it. After that, over the next couple of weeks, there might be additional minimal edits as well and then it is ready to submit.
As a professor at the University of Tennessee, what are some important writing techniques you impart to your students?
Get rid of the pressure with initial creation by acknowledging that it is a first draft. It likely won’t be perfect. Like building a house, first get out the foundation and then add the fine details later.
I also encourage them to think about the shape and form of their work. Oftentimes we are saying the right thing, evocative things, however, it is just not the most flattering line break or form. Like going to a job interview and saying the right things but dressed in flip flops and a t-shirt.
So, I encourage them to think about line break and form… as well as more is not always more. Sometimes brevity and condensed aesthetic can aid the mystery and intrigue of a poem. Lastly, specificity of imagery can oftentimes lead to immediacy, texture and pull a reader in.
When reading, what makes a piece of poetry stand out?
Maybe an exciting title, striking imagery, captivating voice, exquisite sounds, haunting storyline or imagery, emotional connection, intellectual stimulation, mystery, visceral fortitude.
What projects are you working on now?
I have a new manuscript, “New Year’s Eve at the Museum of Somber Paintings” that I am fine-tuning and submitting. Also, I have about 45 new poems that I will eventually organize into another manuscript.
I am enjoying teaching undergrads at the University of Tennessee as a Visiting Writer. Watching a lot of college football. Go Vols, Bears and Trojans. Dodgers playoff baseball is heating up. Ready for the Lakers new season. Trying to spread love, positivity and hope.
Jose Hernandez Diaz is a 2017 NEA Poetry Fellow. He is the author of The Fire Eater (Texas Review Press, 2020) Bad Mexican, Bad American (Acre Books, 2024) The Parachutist (Sundress Publications, 2025) and Portrait of the Artist as a Brown Man (Red Hen Press, 2025). He has been published in The American Poetry Review, The Yale Review, The London Magazine, Poetry Wales, The Iowa Review, Huizache, The Missouri Review, The Nation, Poetry, The Progressive, Poets.org, The Southern Review, and in The Best American Nonrequired Reading. He has taught creative writing at the University of California at Riverside and online for Hugo House, Lighthouse Writers Workshops, and The Writer’s Center. He has been the Poet in Residence at the Carolyn Moore Writers House with Portland Community College. Currently, he is the Visiting Writer in Residence at the University of Tennessee.
In The Field—Conversations With Our Contributors: J. D. Debris
In The Field—Conversations With Our Contributors: J. D. Debris
Your poem, “Song of Solomon” in Volume 26, brings to life vivid images. What sparked the creation of this piece?
Appreciate that comment. The poem takes its title from Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon, as well as her novel’s biblical namesake, both of which did pretty well for themselves in terms of character and story. That freed me up to write something fully lyric—to not stress over narrative and go all in for the incantatory. So, it wasn’t so much about bringing images to life as it was singing them to life. Just trusting the logic of The Song—that mythic, inexplicable, titular thing—even as I put it on the examining table and dissected it.
The poem is in couplets, and many of the lines land on a word or phrase that only gets completed with the next line, so the reader switches images in the middle. What is your process when crafting a piece like this—how do you find the breaks? Do those cliffhangers come as you write, or are they edited in later?
Yeah, you’re onto it, couplets and cliffhangers: the enjambment is a direct result of the form. You could probably reverse-engineer those line breaks, but that’s—no shade—a more free-verse way of thinking, whereas I’m constantly, as a half-musician, framing my thinking via form.
Since I gravitate toward simple forms—in this case, AA BB rhyming couplets—pushing against the constraints of such forms is a must. The form of this poem is as predictable as it gets—you know exactly where the rhymes are going to hit, and, like Derek Walcott said about the ocean, its meter never changes—so the challenge is decalcifying the couplets, decentering them, imbuing them with a little bit of the shimmer, the weirdness, of being alive.
With enjambment, you’re embodying astonishment in the text. That’s what, in poetry as in fiction, suspense does, or should aim to do: to put into words (and into the spaces between the words) a moment-to-moment uncertainty. That way, we might capture a fraction, a flash, of consciousness, and what it feels like to have it.
What themes do you find that you return to in your work?
Bravery and cowardice, certainty and doubt.
You are also a musician. What was your instrument of choice? How does your knowledge of music influence your poetry, and vice versa?
Years ago, Yusef Komunyakaa asked me, Have you ever tried singing your poems? That question clicked on a light for me, though it took me a while to figure out. But when I heard Arthur Flowers read his work to the hypnotic beat of the Array Mbira, that gave me a model to emulate. I basically owe my whole performance style to Arthur Flowers.
Now, when I perform, I cross poetry and live instrumentation, accompanying myself on guitar and alternating between speaking and singing. Since my stuff is jazzy and adaptable, I love to bring other musicians into the mix whenever possible.
To be honest, I’ve heard some cornball shit that fits the above description. So I just do my best to make it sound smooth, and not fussy or dusty whatsoever, and to keep the faith that the role of the griot, or the lyric poet (i.e. poet with a lyre), or however you want to refer to a poet shameless enough to think he can sing, is as relevant as ever.
What stories or texts inspire you? What authors helped shape the writer you are today?
Two formative experiences from my teens. One: my younger sister (the best reader I know) handing me her copy of Yusef Komunyakaa’s Neon Vernacular and telling me You Need To Read This Right Now. And two: stumbling on Roberto Bolaño’s The Romantic Dogs in the public library.
One of the many upsides of reading Komunyakaa and Bolaño young was that, through their allusions and bibliomanias, I wound up with whole constellations of writers and artists to check out. A truant, angry, autodidactic, mutt-ass misfit couldn’t have asked for a better syllabus. Through those two books, I found my way to Vallejo, Césaire, Cortázar, and Mingus.
Now, if you’ll allow me a brief indulgence in dorkiness, I’d like to shine a light on some other writers slotting (roughly) into my parents’ generation, some—but not all—of the literary aunts and uncles who’ve been formative to me, whom I hope to do right by:
John Edgar Wideman, Jay Wright, Lyonel Trouillot, Marcia Douglas, Marcial Gala, Derek Walcott, Kathleen Collins, George Elliot Clarke, Ai, Percival Everett, Adonis, Lynda Hull, Dambudzo Marechera, Franketiénne, Cornelius Eady, Larry Levis, Oscar Hijuelos, Ni Kuang, Gil Scott-Heron, Joy Harjo, Patrick Chamoiseau.
You can divide every generation of young writers into two camps: those who want to burn down everything their parents’ generation did (always easier—and faster—to burn books than it is to read them) and those who want to build on it. I’m old at heart—not in the sentimental way, in the arteriosclerotic way—and as such, I’m ten toes in the latter camp.
What writing or projects are you working on now?
Novels, ya heard? Voice-driven shit. Trying to smuggle poetry into fiction the way many of my heroes have. That, plus getting back into the mic booth ASAP.
J. D. Debris is the author of The Scorpion’s Question Mark (Autumn House Press, 2023) winner of the 2022 Donald Justice Prize. His work has received fellowships and awards from New York University, DISQUIET, Narrative, and Ploughshares.