(and my refusal to be exploited in perpetuating them)
Those of us in the poetry community are accustomed to non-literary publications writing “poetry is dead” articles. These derisive articles come out roughly once a year—they usually cause a day or two of eyerolling and discourse on poetry Twitter, and then fade from memory, as they should. Anyone within the poetry community can attest to its vibrance and vitality. The central idea underpinning these articles is, of course, that money is the only possible signifier of value or success, and that those who pursue poetry without financial gain are fools who simply cannot help themselves. For me, these articles are markers of the corruption of capitalism and the ways in which U.S. culture is morally bereft.
Which brings me to the other harmful myth I’d like to explore, which is that one is “born a poet” and must answer that calling even in the face of inevitable poverty. This one is surprisingly common and profoundly harmful in several ways. It’s deeply exclusionary and makes people feel like if they were not born a poet, they will never be one, or never be a good one. As a teacher and curator, much of my work centers on inviting people to connect with poetry, regardless of their prior experience with it or any other form of literature. While I have been a poet my whole life, I recognize that as a function of my specific circumstances and privileges, and would never suggest that this makes me “more” of a poet than anyone else. I spend a lot of time helping people break down barriers that keep them from engaging with poetry, and I see this as some of the most important work I do.
Also, poets aren’t bound to be impoverished. Again, I cannot speak for anyone but myself, but my pursuit of poetry has, indeed, made my entire life possible. My MFA in poetry provided the experience and credentials that have facilitated every job I’ve held as an adult. I’m a career higher education professional who started out in a registrar’s office, then served as an academic advisor for several years before falling in love with teaching and pursuing that route. It is completely false to suggest that poetry can never lead to livelihood.
These myths are linked, of course—folks demand tremendous unpaid labor from poets, expecting “exposure” or satisfaction of “passion” to stand in for actual compensation. I genuinely don’t know why folks outside of our community love to push these messages. No matter how many times folks declare us “dead,” we are demonstrably very alive, and poetry continues to be the genre people turn to in life’s most significant moments.
I am taking up this topic because my name and face were used in an article pushing these ideas, and I have no choice but to set the record straight. The folks over at Dallas Observer mischaracterized the goal of the article when they approached me for an interview. I was told that the article was intended to help people understand that poets should be paid with actual money, not just exposure. Instead, the article argues that poetry has no audience, students hate it, and it is “a labor of love and an inherent calling.” The reporter had the audacity to say that my poet colleagues and I have a “rapidly diminishing place in the world (and station in life).” That’s just rude to say about anyone, let alone a group of folks who are making serious magic in the community while contending with the crushing demands of capitalism.
Once the article posted, I realized that the reporter not only misled me about her intent, she used my voice only once, as an out-of-context afterthought in the final moment of the article. When I reached out to her regarding this choice, she told me her intent was to use my voice to reinforce her idea that being a poet is “an inherent trait.” Frankly, she had to take me out of context, because nothing I stated in my written interview aligned with her preconceived notions about the poetry community.
I insisted on a written interview because of my previous negative experiences with reporters. I have spoken about some of that publicly, like being egregiously misquoted by my hometown paper, The Midland Reporter Telegram. Some of these bad experiences have never been public because my insistence on written interviews allowed me to back out of harmful messages before they could be published. Once I realized how harmful the article is, and exactly how my voice had been used to bolster ideas I vehemently work against, I requested to be removed from the article. This shouldn’t have been too difficult, as my contribution could not have been more minimal, but the folks at Dallas Observer refused. I will include some of my real answers from my written interview here, along with some other thoughts.
The quote the reporter used is framed as if it answers the question, “is it worth it?” I was asked that question, but the quote included does not answer it. Here’s the real context of the quote used in the article:
Regardless of the economics, do you consider being a poet your occupation? Why?
I consider being a poet part of my identity. I've been a poet all my life and would be a poet regardless of how I pay the bills.
I clarified here that this is not an “occupation” for me. I pointed out that I have been doing it all my life to underscore the fact that it is not a capitalistic pursuit for me—like, I started when I was a child, before money became a concern in my life. My identity is made up of many roles, just like everyone else’s. I’m a mother, a wife, an educator, an animal-lover, an athlete, and so many other things that are not about money. Of course, identities evolve over time, and while being a poet has been persistent for me, I do not speak for anyone else, nor would I suggest that anyone else’s experience is less valid than mine.
Here’s my real answer to the question the reporter posed near the end of the article:
Ultimately– is it worth it?
Yes, it's worth it, but I don't measure that by how much money I make. Being a poet is a gift. Part of my gift is my ability to make space for other people to connect with poetry and to find their own voices. Poetry really does save lives, give people hope, fight loneliness. I wish we lived in a culture with more ways of imagining value beyond money. That is not the world we live in, however, so I do everything I can to advocate for myself and others.
Of course, I have always made sure the Inner Moonlight poets get paid. Not all reading series pay, but this issue is important to me. I've accepted a few different forms of sponsorships over the years, but since February of 2024, I have sponsored the show independently. Inner Moonlight is quite literally my gift to the community and it is my tremendous privilege to be able to give that gift. The show has generated its own magnificent community, so full of talent and heart and compassion, and I am deeply proud to create that space. It's hard work…but it is good work that matters to people in ways I can't put a price tag on. I believe writers should be paid, and I consistently see to it that they are paid. I also do this work to help people understand the value of literature, connection, and community beyond capitalism. It's not always easy to navigate, but it is always, always worth it.
I use the word “gift” because I feel poetry is something beautiful that was given to me, and something I take great joy in giving to others. I make it very clear in this answer that my goal is to invite others into the artform, and that I am doing my best within the damaging confines of capitalism. The reporter used my voice as if I shrugged off the importance of paying poets when in fact I did exactly the opposite.
Regarding the assertion that poets have no audience, here’s another relevant portion from my interview that works to dispel yet another myth:
In a general sense, how do you personally define ultimate success as a poet?
This is the question upon which my intro to creative writing course is based. I think every writer grapples with this question and has to come to their own terms, which are likely to continually evolve. Common definitions of success are: writing well, making money, gaining editorial approval, reaching a large audience, and making a difference. The longer I do this work, the less I care about things like editorial approval or fame (which is money + large audience). I care most about writing well and making a difference, which includes teaching and curating Inner Moonlight.
Welcome to Midland is the result of liberating myself from the myth of the "universal audience," which is code for "mainstream" and implies middle-class, white, cisgender straight people. My book was written for queer folks from small towns and has successfully reached that audience. I have received positive feedback from people outside of that target audience, certainly, which is lovely, but not required for me to feel that the book is successful. I feel most successful about my writing when readers within my target audience tell me that my work resonates with them.
Of course, this answer had no place in an article bent on defining success only in terms of money and pushing the idea that people can only be poets if they were born that way. My very clear connection with my audience runs counter to the idea that people don’t read poetry, and my assertion that I achieved the success I desired is not nearly bleak enough for the thesis of the article.
The article makes other false claims that depict the state of creative writing as bleak and untenable. For example, the article asserts that Texas has zero graduate creative writing programs that offer funding, and that this is driving writers away from Dallas. That is laughably false and easily debunked by a cursory Google search, which reveals several grad-level programs in Texas with funding, including some right here in DFW. I’ve had the pleasure of featuring so many poets who found their way to DFW because they are pursuing grad school, or because they have been hired to teach creative writing, and I look forward to the next great talents those programs will bring.
I truly wish the reporter had decided against including me at all, or that Dallas Observer had complied with my request to remove me from the article. I wish people outside of our community would stay in their lane instead of talking down about us in public as if they are an authority. I wish U.S. culture was less broken and predatory, and that we could all experience any measure of freedom from capitalism.
What I want to tell you is that if you want to be a poet, this community is here for you. I am not going to lie to you and say that the community is perfect. It isn’t. It suffers from gatekeeping and inequities and bullshit just like everything else in our culture. But I can tell you that there are brilliant, beautiful people working their asses off every day to make it better. I can tell you that the poetry community in Dallas has been alive and well for as long as I can attest to it. I moved here in 2011, and I am damn proud of the evolution I’ve seen here over the years. I am deeply grateful to the independent bookstores, literary nonprofits, colleges and universities, and individual talents who have put in the real work of making this artform accessible and inclusive. Every time I am asked how I got to where I am today, I talk about how very lucky I am to have made connections with people who gave a damn about me and my work, and how honored I feel to create space for others by giving a damn myself. Do you have a poem stuffed in your pocket? Somewhere at the bottom of your bag? In the notes app on your phone? Do you have a poem deep in your memory that surfaces when you are grieving or overjoyed? If any of that is true for you, then I have great news. Poetry is a gift. It can be yours.
