He Do the Gay Man Winning an Award: Reflecting on the 25th Lambda Literary Awards

In the last seven months, I moved to New York City, I turned thirty, I was a finalist for the Thom Gunn Poetry Award, I signed a contract for a second book, and on Monday night I won the Lambda Literary Award for Gay Poetry. Pretty unbelievable. I went from feeling like my life was stalled out to feeling empowered and accomplished.

Following grad school, I moved to Orlando, Florida and lived there for four and a half years. During that time, I wrote the majority of He Do the Gay Man in Different Voices, but I also felt like my life was spinning out of control. In those years, I battled depression issues. Part of this was simply the shock of entering the job market after seven years of higher education and entering it at the peak of the recession. Part of it was the location I had selected. Orlando didn't really meet a lot of my needs. Part of it was just growing up and figuring out how to make it in this world as a writer. Luckily, I had the support of my partner, Dustin, and many good friends (lots of love to Jaclyn, Mark, Josh, Chiara, Gail, Beth, and Josh).

When my book came out in March of 2012, things began to change. My goal of having a book before I turned thirty was met. By this point, I had also made a plan to move to NYC. Having a book has been an amazing and strange experience. It has given me the chance to meet so many people and to feel a part of something truly special and that is the Sibling Rivalry family. I've been surprised by so much and there's been some ups and downs. I'm very hard on myself, which means I look for the negatives. There were moments when I felt like very few publications were interested in reviewing my book or interviewing me, which made me question if I did something wrong, or if the book wasn't good enough, or why others were getting more reviews than me (normal writer feelings). But I kept getting reader reviews on Amazon and Good Reads. While these reviews were sometimes mixed, they felt honest and were from true readers (some were very funny). Regardless of the reviews, my book became the bestselling book for my press in 2012 and made the contemporary poetry bestsellers list in August of 2012. I guess those pat-everyone-on-the-back reviews don't necessary mean that much. Then the most surprising thing happened: my book was named a finalist for both the Thom Gunn Poetry Award and the Lambda Literary Award.

When this happened in March, I was already living here in NYC and loving it. I felt like everything had fallen into place. Both award ceremonies were here in New York, which made my recent move feel even more like the right decision. Suddenly, I began to realize what I've accomplished and how far I've come. In the months leading up to the Lammys, I've had the chance to do a few readings here in the city and one in Boston during AWP. I've had the chance to meet and read with many amazing writers and to realize more than ever that I'm a part of a true community. I'm so tired of hearing about how bad the publishing world is or how poetry is dying. Things change. They always do, but there's still amazing writers out there doing impressive and interesting work. I'm lucky to be at a press that actually pays its writers and puts amazing work out into the world. I don't see the death so many people are talking about. I see change, opportunity, and new and vital voices.

In April, the Triangle Awards took place and I lost to Richard Blanco as I thought I might. It was an enjoyable evening and I was pleased to have my parents here in the city to share it with me. I wrote about that night here.

I went into the Lammys thinking of it as a celebration or bookend for my first book journey. I didn't expect to win, but, of course, I wanted to win (who doesn't?). Having lost one award and won the other, I can say winning is more fun. Of course, awards are just a small group's opinion. My Lammy means that this particular group of judges wanted to honor my book over others, and I'm pleased that they did. I'm sure someone out there thinks another poet should have won and that's fine. That's how it goes.

I won't say the Lambda Literary Foundation is perfect. I know it gets a lot of critiques and you can find that in many current stories about this year's awards. Awards, of any kind, are never perfect. There are always arguments about representation and inclusion (particularly for trans writers and writers of color). That doesn't mean, however, that the Lammys aren't still important to the community, and it doesn't mean they can't keep getting better. Cherrie Moraga was given the Pioneer Award at this year's ceremony and her speech was one of the most moving of the night. I thought she did an amazing job of both accepting the award, being honored by it, yet also expressing her concerns about the representation of writers of color. She also rightly expressed discomfort at the use of the word "pioneer." Speeches like this at award ceremonies can be awkward moments, but it truly wasn't. She was so genuine that I think the majority of the audience was moved. It was also hard to deny her sentiments since the winners had mostly been white people (myself included). I've had my own issues with Lambda and I often feel the website seems to highlight the same small group of writers over and over again, but these are all things that can change. Like Moraga, I'd like to see more diversity and for us as a community to "remain queer" as she said in her speech. This is something I strongly believe in and is partly a focus of my second book that questions the whole marriage movement and openly discusses my own open relationship.

My Lammy day actually started off pretty badly. I taught class Monday morning and ended up leaving my keys in my office at work and didn't realize I'd done this until I was in front of my apartment building. I live in upper Harlem and I teach in the financial district, so basically I spent a lot of my day on the subway. Then as I was getting ready for the night, I decided to try a new moisturizer (okay, it was tinted moisturizer) and after about twenty minutes, my face began to burn and turn red. I was not pleased. Luckily, I got it washed off and took some benadryl, which made my face return to normal by the time I got to the event. Then on the way from the subway to the event, it started pouring and Dustin and I got really wet even with an umbrella. Basically, things were not going my way. At that point, I was expecting a four-way tie in my category giving a Lammy to everyone but me.

After a few minutes of calming down and attempting to dry off, I began to feel better (maybe it was the three drinks I downed at the pre-ceremony reception). The Lammys are a pretty fun and impressive event. There was a red carpet, famous people, drinks, and lots of nervous writers. About 400 people attended, so it was a good crowd. Kate Clinton hosted the ceremony and was funny and kept things moving. I liked the use of the screens on stage to showcase the book covers. My award was right in the center of the night. Thankfully, I was entertained while I waited (I grew up loving to watch award ceremonies). The presenters were mostly funny and the acceptance speeches were quick and sometimes moving (as noted earlier).

When it came to the poetry awards, there was a drop in my stomach. I remember them announcing the nominees and my book cover coming up, but then it gets a little hazy. Of course, I know what must have happened. They must have read my book as the winner. My cover must have come back on the screen with the Lammy seal, and I know I somehow got to the stage. I don't completely remember what I said, but I think I mentioned how great Sibling Rivalry Press is, I thanked Bryan Borland, my teachers, and Dustin. I was quick, but to the point. I hadn't prepared anything specific to say, and I was truly in shock, which is why no one is quoting my acceptance speech.

I sat through the second half of the ceremony in a dream state. I kept looking down at my lap to remind myself that I'd actually won (the award was in my lap just to clarify). I remember being a little gay boy growing up in Indiana and telling people I wanted to be a writer. My life has changed so much in the last year and I keep thinking that somehow this can't all be real, but it is.

Afterwards, I attended the after party and drank a lot more and got to meet and get congratulations from so many people who I admire like Edmund White and John Irving. You might think this party would be full of snobby people, but everyone was so nice and accepting and while I've always been aware of my connection to the history of literature and other writers, it felt different to feel that connection in the flesh and here in New York City where so many significant gay writers have lived. The after party was on the top floor of the New Museum and it had a balcony that overlooked lower Manhattan. It was beautiful and surreal to stand there with a major award in my hand in a city that I've dreamed about living in all my life. Life isn't perfect, but sometimes it's pretty fucking great.

Since Monday night, I've been truly overwhelmed by all of the very kind messages, Facebook posts, emails, texts, tweets, etc. that I've gotten. You don't do anything in life completely alone. My book is a product of my life, my experiences, my education, and the people I've met along the way. I was very pleased to hear from so many of my past professors from both my undergrad days at Hanover College and my MFA days at Florida State. I often still feel like a student longing for the approval of my professors. It feels really good and I want to remember this feeling.

Lastly, I want to take a moment and say that I was honored to be in the same category as Aaron, Patrick, Richard, and Eduardo. And I'm sorry to Richard that every article so far that's mentioned my win has pointed out that I even beat the poet who read at Obama's inauguration (but I think he can take it). In lots of ways, the talent I was up against has made this award feel even more amazing.

Thanks to everyone for the kind words and for believing in my work.

-Stephen (Winning)

Reading Percival

I first became aware of Percival Everett in the winter of 2004. I was a newly out gay boy heading toward the end of my junior year of college when I signed up for a contemporary literature class. My small liberal arts school in southern Indiana had created a faculty exchange program with a school in France. This meant we sent them one of our English literature professors and they sent us one.

I can't remember her name, but she was very French. Small. Pale. Almost birdlike. She was excited, yet I wondered why. I had to think our professor was getting the better end of the deal. Here she was in a cornfield while he was probably on the streets of Paris drinking wine. My school, Hanover College, was beautiful, but only had 1,000 students total and there was not much off-campus without driving at least an hour in any direction.

Excitement or not we began the semester in the cold of an Indiana winter. The school had given her complete freedom to teach what she wanted. Hanover offered great literature courses, but not many on contemporary works, which is partly what drew me to her class. I was, however, a bit let down when I got her syllabus. I didn't recognize a single name on the list of authors we were assigned to read. I think she was let down too. We were dumber than she expected and she was a bit more disorganized than we expected. Somehow she had a misunderstanding about the semester schedule and therefore planned for us to read ten books in six weeks, which then left us nothing to do the rest of the semester.

Things were confusing. She didn't quite understand and nor did we, but we made the best of it. Looking back, this experience was very useful for me. I realize now that the books she selected (all by American authors) were a bit outside the mainstream and that these were authors I'd hear more and more about as I grew older and got more involved in the literature scene.

It was in her classroom that I was handed Percival Everett's novel Erasure. It wasn't like anything I'd read before. It was strange, confusing in places, and played with the idea of race and authorship in fascinating ways. There are books that change our way of thinking and those moments that you can have as a reader when you say, "Wow, I didn't know you could do that." Reading a Percival Everett novel is almost always like that.

I wrote my final paper for the class on Erasure and got an A. I don't know what happened to that professor, but I'm thankful for what she exposed me to that semester. I didn't forget Percival Everett and I kept my copy of Erasure with sticky-notes and scribblings in the margins on my shelf.

About two or three years later, I saw another novel by Everett on Amazon called Wounded. I quickly ordered it. It was completely different from Erasure. It was a more straightforward story, but gripping and thought-provoking just the same. After that I was hooked. I've read six of his novels and his one poetry collection. His work is truly unique in that each book has a very different style and approach. He often uses satire and humor, but will also play with what a novel can be. He writes a lot, which means I still have plenty to read.

About a month ago, I saw that he was giving a reading here in New York City at 192 Books. It was for his newest novel called Percival Everett by Virgil Russell. I went to the small gathering where he read from the book and then took questions. It's always an experience to meet an author that you admire. Sometimes you are let down and sometimes you are just surprised by how different they are. Everett surprised me because he was soft-spoken and a little shy. From reading his books, I was expecting a very commanding presence. As the night went on he warmed up more and more. The crowd was small (maybe 12 of us) and I found the question and answer portion much more fascinating than hearing him read.

As a writer, I'm always intrigue by how other writers view their work and complete their work. Everett said he actually forgets his novels very quickly and that readers will come up to him and ask specific things about a novel and he won't remember. I found this very strange. It seemed that he devoted so much time to the piece while he was writing it that once it was complete it vanished from him, which might be a relief. He also addressed the idea of categorizing his work. Critics wants to pin him down, which proves difficult because his novels are truly different. Many call him a post-modernist and he poked fun at that label quite a bit. Everett was funny and more causal than I was expecting. What I found refreshing about him is that he truly seemed to not care what critics or reviewers say about his work or how they label it. He's not writing for a mainstream audience or for some great literary prize, which gives him a lot of freedom within his work. In my opinion, it is this freedom that leads to such great work.

His books are smart, playful, and entertaining. As I've gotten older and read more and explored my own writing, I've learned to appreciate moments of confusion, which Everett typically provides.  Many readers fear confusion in a text, but confusion can be beautiful and useful and can make you question everything. Of course this is coming from a huge modernist lover. My favorite novelists are Woolf, Joyce, and Faulkner. Confusion is part of reading these kinds of novels and Everett fits right into this way of writing and reading.

I just finished his latest novel. It was truly one of my favorites of his. Percival Everett by Virgil Russell is a novel that doesn't have a clear narrator. The novel is possibly written by an old man pretending to write a novel that his son would write in his voice or it's by the son pretending to write a novel in the voice of his father who is pretending to writing a novel in the voice of his son. Confused? The story is fragmented. Story-lines start and don't all finish. But the book is truly an exploration of time and memory and how we look back at our histories and piece them together and change them over time. The confusion in the text is there for a reason and takes you on an interesting journey.

Everett is one of those rare authors that I believe will one day be recognized as one of the greatest of this time period. If you haven't read him, you should start.

-Stephen (Reader)

The Next Step(s)

It's hard to believe I've been in New York for seven months already. And what a seven months it has been. I've been thrilled by all the opportunities the city has already offered me and I'm looking forward to all that is to come.

On June 1st, I'll be reading once again at the Bureau of General Services-Queer Division as part of the Lambda Literary Award Finalists reading. It starts at 7 PM and will include readings by a wide range of writers. Please come by and hear some great literature.

On June 3rd, I'll be attending the Lambda Literary Awards (reception, awards, and after-party). I'm very excited for the event and honored to be a finalist. I've already purchased an outfit, so get ready. I have some pretty amazing new pants. In many ways, this night will be a closing to my first book journey. The book will go on and I'll still read from it and people will still buy it (I hope), but it feels like one last big party for the success of the book before I move on to other projects. On June 3rd, I'll be celebrating the hard work that went into that first book and enjoying the night. Of course, winning would be great. I feel I'm a bit of the underdog in the category since I'm the youngest and from the smallest press. We will see what happens.

On July 30th, I'm extremely thrilled to be reading in Bryant Park as part of the Word for Word Reading Series. I'll be joined by Bryan Borland, Seth Pennington, Collin Kelley, D. Gilson, Matthew Hittinger, and Joanna Hoffman. That's a pretty amazing line-up. If you've not come to hear me read before, come to this one. 

In other news, I just signed my second book contract with Sibling Rivalry Press. My second poetry collection, A History of the Unmarried, will be released in September of 2014. I'm extremely pleased to continue working with SRP. I'm lucky to have a press that is so supportive, organized, and collaborative. I feel like I'm part of something truly unique. I'm also lucky to be surrounded by such talented people. I'm truly a fan of so many SRP writers and I'm honored anytime I can read along side them.

I've also got a few other projects in the works. I've been working on some narrative essays and I'm already working on a third poetry collection, which is going to be extremely different from my other books. My new book project is a novel in verse and is still in the early stages of development. I've done a lot of research for it and I've drafted a few of the poems. I'll write more about it in future posts.

The last few months have felt like a reboot for me. I feel more alive and more myself here in the city. That paired with all of the great news for my writing and I've had a pretty amazing time. I gave up a salary job that paid fairly well to come here and while I'm not making tons of money, I'm happier than I've been in a long time.

-Stephen (Honored)

Failing Less: Teaching Poetry in Composition Classrooms

I've spent nearly eight years teaching college composition classes and through that experience I've had many failures and many successes. At this point, I feel pretty confident. I'm never the teacher they are expecting (I'm younger, funnier, gayer, etc.) and I use that to my advantage. My goal is to make them hate writing less and to understand that all writing is a process and takes time. You aren't simply born a great writer or born a bad one. It takes work, which is not how most of them view writing coming into the classroom. I also provide them with a wide range of examples that they actually connect with and care about (most comp books are simply terrible in this category, so I do a lot of photocopying). I've recently been using a piece from The New Yorker about Rihanna. I'd much rather they debate the stardom of a pop singer than give me another poorly written essay about abortion or why weed should be legalized, and quite honestly, I care more about Rihanna than weed or abortion.

Teaching essay writing has become almost second nature to me, but when I bring poetry into the composition classroom things often crumble, which might seem odd, as I'm a published poet. With the exception of a pop culture poetry class that I designed and taught at Florida State (which went well), my other poetry teaching experience has been in traditional comp classes and hasn't always been so great. During the semester, I take a class period and do some poetry with the students. The goal is to get them exposed to contemporary poetry and to have them see that much of what we discuss about essay writing can apply to creative writing. They are often shocked to discover that poets do research and revise.

As a whole, I'm not a very naive person or teacher (direct, realistic, a little bitchy? yes, yes, and yes), but on poetry days I'm suddenly some save-the-world-Teach-for-America type. I enter with the belief that I'm going to get them all to fall in love with poetry. Five or maybe ten minutes into the class, I suddenly turn bitter and regret everything I've decided to do. I spend the rest of the class wishing for a fire drill, or a bomb threat, or any reason to abandon the building and forget I ever brought up poetry.

My intentions are good, but I know the majority of people don't really like poetry and most read so little of it that they become like deer in the headlights when asked about a poem. Poetry has become something to fear and when we fear something we grow to hate it. Students have been force feed "correct interpretations" of literature in high school, which have left them bitter and feeling stupid. Even though I'm coming at it from a different angle, they don't trust that I'm not about to make them all into fools.

My standard approach is to begin class by asking them what they associate with poetry and what poets they know. This results in them shouting out words like "rhyming," "love," "death," "Shakespeare," "Robert Frost," "Dr. Suess," and on a slightly better day "Plath," "Dickinson," and "all poems don't have to rhyme." Sometimes a student raises his/her hand to say "I didn't know anyone wrote poetry anymore." I then go on to address the issues they have raised and tell them that we are going to look at some contemporary poetry as a class. This is when things begin the downward spiral. This is mostly my fault. How do you select just a few poems to read in class to showcase contemporary poetry to students who think the last person to write one lived over a hundred years ago? This task proves difficult. I've tried a lot of different poets, but they rarely connect with the students.

Of course, I'm being a bit dramatic and hard on myself. Yes, some like the poems. Yes, some might decide to pick up a poetry book sometime because of something I mentioned. But most stare at me blankly and part of me can't blame them.

Actually, this isn't all my fault. It's partly the fault of the poetry community. We've once again spent April celebrating National Poetry Month, but how many new readers did we get? Wasn't most of the month spent talking to other poets or poets reading each other's work? We are a rather incestuous group. Most outsiders don't see the diversity of the poetry world because they aren't in it. They connect poetry with the mostly white, mostly old poets who win big prizes or are named Poet Laureate. Even if a slightly diverse poet gets a public moment, it is often for one of their tamer poems. If this is the face of poetry in America, I can't blame my students for not wanting to hear me out.

Perhaps it is all of this in the back of my head that makes me freeze up as a teacher on poetry days. I want them to know that there's more to poetry than Billy Collins or Philip Levine or Sharon Olds or Kay Ryan (who even puts me to sleep) and that people of all ages, colors, classes, sexual orientations, genders, etc. write poetry, and that poetry can be funny, entertaining, dark, mysterious, and full of pop culture, sex, and jokes. I want them to see what I love about poetry.  

All of this was on my mind the last few days as I prepared for yet another one of my poetry attempts. I decided to try a new idea that I got from an AWP panel run by fellow poet and comp teacher Jessie Carty. One of the presenters, Tawnysha Greene, suggested bringing in a bag full of poetry books and having students spend time looking through them and selecting a poem to share with the class (Jessie does this too). This seemed like a good way to achieve my goals without the pressure of deciding poems for the whole class to read.

I began class the same way by asking them about their associations with poetry. Next I spoke just a bit about contemporary poetry and then wheeled over a cart of 32 books I'd brought from home (all of them published in the last twenty years). I told the eight students who showed up to class to get up and start looking through the books. They weren't sure at first, but quickly started grabbing volumes and searching through. I heard a few bursts of laughter and a few gasps, which gave me some encouragement.

I asked them to write out a short response to the poem and then we took turns reading the poems aloud. It took them awhile to decide and even longer to write down a short response. As they worked, I had some nervous moments like when one student came up to me after about twenty minutes and pointed to a Kim Addonizio poem and said, "is this a poem?" Her eyes were wide and her voice was accusatory. It was as if she thought I'd created some scavenger hunt or put in trick books. I assured her that all the books were full of poems. I'm not sure she believed me, but she sat back down and continued on with her assignment.

As the students read their selected poems and explained what they liked about them, I realized this was a perfect way to introduce contemporary poetry to students. I wasn't judging them or telling them they were right or wrong. I was just listening. They picked interesting and diverse poems. I gave the power of selection to them. I made them into readers of poetry for just two hours. I don't know that I got any more of them to care than I have in other classes, but I left the classroom feeling better and less like a failure.

Teaching poetry to those interested in poetry is completely different than bringing poetry to general education courses like English Composition. While I often feel like I'm failing, I still believe in the value of introducing new people to poetry. I don't write poetry simply for other poets to read or to win some award (I realize that now I've been a finalist for two poetry awards, so this may hold less weight, but I promise that's not what I think about when I write). If I did, I'd probably write very different poems. I write to engage with an audience and I'd like that audience to be as diverse as possible.

-Stephen (Teaching)

Learning Curve

As a writer, it can sometimes be difficult to discuss your work with your family or for your family to understand the literary world, if they are outside it. I've found this to be true in my experience. Most of my family are not great readers of poetry and I know that my subject matter might make some of them uncomfortable. I also rely a lot on my own experiences, which can add to the discomfort. This can lead to odd conversations, but it mostly results in very little discussion. Everyone knows I write. Everyone knows my book came out. I've gotten the obligatory congratulations and my mother has made some more direct comments about the book and asks me about new work from time to time. I'm not sure if other family members have even read the whole book.

It can be frustrating that something you love and work hard at doesn't necessarily get as much recognition as say having a kid or buying a new house (normal things). But, at times, I also understand how the poetry world can be intimating and how many simply don't know what to say.

In March, when my book was named a finalist for the Thom Gunn Award and for the Lambda Literary Award in Gay Poetry, I realized that the ceremony for the Thom Gunn Award was during the week that my parents had already planned a trip to New York (their first). I told them about the awards and they were excited, but, again, I'm not sure they fully grasped what it meant. They'd never heard of either award before I was named a finalist.

My parents arrived last Saturday and spent all week with my partner and me. Their visits are always fun and since they'd never been to New York, we took them everywhere. They were real troopers and did more walking than ever before and they truly loved the city.

On Thursday, I took them to the Triangle Awards and to my surprise the evening really connected with them. For maybe the first time, they understood what I've accomplished and it made everything a little more real. Of course, they are proud of me. I'm their son, but on this night they seemed to really realize that we were in a room full of very accomplished writers and publishers and that my very first book (published when I was just 29) had been recognized and named one of four finalists.

My parents were both born in the early 1950s and were raised in Indiana, where they lived until just four years ago when they moved to Houston, Texas. They have always supported me and my partner and I love them for that. They've also always supported my interest in writing. This support, however, hasn't always come with full understanding. At the Triangle Awards, they not only saw the significance of my accomplishments, but they also realized more and more that there's a lot of history in the gay community that they know nothing about.

After the awards ceremony, my mother mentioned how she didn't know anything about Stonewall (which had been mentioned in a speech). She was fascinated and the next day we took them by the bar. Then on Friday evening, while I taught class, my partner had them watch Milk. In one week, they not only learned all about New York City, they also got a real glimpse into the literary world and learned some gay history.

I might have lost the Thom Gunn Award to Richard Blanco, but I had a pretty amazing night and I'm glad my parents were there to see it.

-Stephen (Honored)

A Fortunate Poet: The Poetry of Bryan Borland

A few years ago, I got an email from a guy named Bryan Borland who wrote to say how much he enjoyed a few of my poems that had been published in a journal. Little did I know that this Bryan Borland would go on to change my life and revitalize the gay poetry world. When Bryan sent me that email, neither of us had books and Sibling Rivalry didn't exist. From that email, a mutual respect and friendship began that led to many amazing things for both of us.

Bryan is now widely known as the mastermind behind Sibling Rivalry Press, which has published some of the best young poets writing today. The press is growing constantly (including some fiction) and gaining great recognition. This includes the recent recognition my book received as a finalist for the Thom Gunn Poetry Award and for the Lambda Literary Award in Gay Poetry. Somehow Bryan has made a lot happen in a really short amount of time. I don't think he sleeps.

While his work as an editor and publisher is clearly impressive, he's also written two books of poems. His most recent collection, Less Fortunate Pirates, came out in late 2012. His talent as a poet can easily get lost in all of his other accomplishments. This is partly due to Bryan's great generosity and his constant praise and promotion of his authors. Consider this my attempt to payback some of that praise and generosity.

I was luckily enough to read an early draft of Less Fortunate Pirates, which is a series of poems dealing with the sudden death of Bryan's father. The final product is truly some of the best poems I've read on the subject of grief. They are honest, raw, and cover the vast emotions that come with loss. This isn't an easy topic to write about, yet Bryan makes it look easy.

In many ways, all of us at Sibling Rivalry Press are connected to this story of Bryan and his father. Those more familiar with the press or Bryan will already know this, but many of my readers might not. On December 10, 2009 (a few months after Bryan sent me that first email), his father gave him $1,000.00 to start Sibling Rivalry Press. Ten days later, Bryan's father was killed when his vehicle left a one-lane bridge and plunged into a lake. That money helped build the press that is now flourishing.

Less Fortunate Pirates takes the reader through the first year of Bryan's life without his father. What I loved about the book is how it doesn't try to say the right thing. It questions everything. There's dreamlike moments, psychics, signs, cats, and the everyday. Life goes on, but the question is how. This book is the how (at least for Bryan). It is through these poems that we see the struggle that loss brings us.

The poems are often direct and concise. Many are rather short, but they pack a heavy punch. "The Night I Fight With My Husband" is a perfect example:

I think:

I cannot leave him
     because he knew my father,
no man who came after
would.

That's the entire poem, yet it says so much. These short poems are balanced with slightly longer pieces that explore the themes in more depth like the poems "Dark Horse" and "Car Crashes Are My Family's Cancer." The book also uses holidays and seasons as a way to move the year along and let the reader know how much time has passed.

By the end, the book feels like a complete journey aboard a rocky ship. There's moments of pure heartbreak, but also a sense of hope: the living must go on. Bryan has gone on and the money his father gave him has touched a lot of people's lives. Mine included. While these poems tell the story of the aftermath of his father's death, his father is still there in the pages and you come away feeling like you know him just a little bit.

Sibling Rivalry Press is truly an amazing accomplishment, but Bryan's work as a poet is just as worthy of attention. This book showcases his growth as a poet and is well worth your time.

-Stephen (Pirating)

National Poetry Month: Poetry Video of "Questioning If We Should Get Married While Watching Rear Window"

We are halfway through National Poetry Month. It's been a great month so far. On Saturday, I spent the afternoon at the Rainbow Book Fair here in New York City. It was great to be with so many writers from the LGBT community. My press, Sibling Rivalry, was there as were many of my press mates. I got to catch up with old friends and make some new ones. Thanks to everyone who bought a copy of my book!

Today I'm posting a second video for National Poetry Month. In this video, I'm reading a new poem called "Questioning If We Should Get Married While Watching Rear Window." It is from my new book manuscript A History of the Unmarried.

I hope you enjoy!

-Stephen (Questioning)