Jude Marr (he, they) is a Pushcart-nominated trans poet, editor and teacher. His poetry has appeared in many journals and anthologies, most recently Ghost City, Cutleaf, and Masculinity: An Anthology of Modern Voices. Jude’s first collection, We Know Each Other By Our Wounds, came out in 2020 and his latest manuscript, Silence Will Not Save Us, is currently in search of a publisher.
AP: What are you working on currently?
JM: I am writing and editing poems for a new chapbook, tentatively titled Ghosts in the Age of Dictators
AP: What inspired you to start your current project, and what message or impact do you hope it will have on your readers?
JM: I never set out with a specific project in mind. I write until I have enough material to see what themes are emerging from the dark recesses, and how those themes are interacting with the politics of every day – politics in the widest sense. Right now, I am inspired by a renewed sense of purpose, a hint of optimism even; the manuscript I’m currently shopping around is dark, but I hope the collection I’m working on now will suggest a shift toward more active participation in the human experience, and a more complex relationship with dread.
AP: Can you describe the journey of bringing your latest work to life? What were some of the key challenges and triumphs along the way?
JM: For this latest project, I began by drafting a poem every day for a month. I have never done that before, and I admit to being impressed by my own tenacity. I’m thankful that a decent number of those drafts had enough about them to warrant revision. Now the challenge is, as ever, to turn those drafts into work that is both coherent and startling.
AP: How do you approach the process of developing a poem from initial idea to final draft?
JM: I almost always begin with a prompt; a word, a line, a sentence, a quote, something that I’ve taken note of as having the potential to inspire an interesting poem. I begin with a working title, which may be the prompt itself, to avoid staring at an empty page. Then I think around the prompt and begin to write. For the first draft, I let language take over and don’t worry too much about what the poem wants to say. I edit as I go, typing (I never write by hand) and retyping until I have what feels like a working draft. Then I let the draft settle. I don’t save drafts, I always work directly with the raw material, returning each time to make more sense, make more meaning, make more music. I’m always looking for a poem I haven’t written before; a powerful ending; enough experiment, allusion, sound and wordplay, to give the reader a sensory experience that is both intellectually and emotionally satisfying. Which is not to say that I succeed, but that’s what I’m aiming for.
AP: What themes or topics are you most passionate about exploring in your poetry, and why?
JM: I begin with the firm belief that all poetry is political, that the personal is political. I write about the state of the world as I see it and experience it, as a person who lives on this planet, who exists inside societal structures, who gets stuck inside their own head. I try to make my observations more widely relevant than not. Most of all, I try to model complexity as the key feature of our existence that we most recoil from. The elements of that complexity that I most want to explore are how we treat the planet; how we treat each other; how we live inside societal constructs.
AP: How do you see your work contributing to the larger literary community?
JM: I add my voice to the multitude, but I don’t think my poetry makes any particular contribution. I try to be a good literary citizen by reading for journals, editing for a small press – Animal Heart Press – plus I do some teaching and developmental editing as a freelancer. I get published often enough to feel confident that I’m not always shouting into the void but I have no illusions. I started late, I write sporadically, I am cerebral and odd. I will be quickly forgotten.
AP: What role does feedback from peers or editors play in shaping your poetry?
JM: These days, honestly, not so much. When I started writing (in my 40s) I enjoyed going to workshops and meeting other writers. I still enjoy meeting other writers, but after studying for a Masters and a PhD, I am all workshopped out. So far, I’ve had minimal input from editors on the manuscript-to-book track, and I’m fine with that. If particular work is rejected consistently, I will of course revisit that work with a view to further revision. But so much of what we do is subjective, and I’ve had enough publishing success to believe in my own abilities, including as an editor of my own work. Good or bad, it’s my responsibility. Which, come to think of it, is also my philosophy of life. And if that all sounds arrogant, or anti-social, let me add that I learn, I will always learn, from every poet whose work I read, every day.
AP: Can you share an experience where a piece of feedback significantly altered the direction of one of your poems?
JM: My thesis advisor for my MFA suggested an excellent edit for the last line of a poem that ended up in my first chapbook. Her suggestion, to invert a line and add a comma / pause for effect, not only improved that poem but also gave me a new tool for my poet’s toolbox. What neither of us noticed, though, was the white privilege embodied in that same line, which compares the speaker to cargo, as a metaphor. I saw it, eventually; and now, if I ever read that poem, it’s to illustrate how privilege is baked into white people, and into our language, and how it’s on us to un-bake it.
AP: What do you believe are the most important qualities a press or editor should have when working with poets?
JM: Respect, for the person and the work; directness that remains kind; flexibility
AP: How can presses like The Broken Spine better support poets and their creative processes?
JM: By being visible and recognisable; supporting poets and poetry across the board, whether locally or online; caring about craft; being vocally inclusive; offering multiple opportunities for poets to submit work; not charging for submissions (or at least keeping it low and offering options for those who can’t afford to pay); offering workshops, sponsoring retreats, running a reading series – any combination of events and opportunities that help poets to know each other, share work, create community. The Broken Spine is doing good work.
AP: In what ways do you feel the writing community is currently lacking, and what changes would you like to see to address these gaps?
JM: I should begin by saying that, in spite of my British passport and my mongrel accent, my writing community is, for the most part, in the US. I lived there for 10 years, I became a poet there, and that’s where I still feel I have an audience. Wherever I am, I believe I will continue to be, at heart, a US poet albeit one with an international viewpoint. That said, my impression over the last few years of being back in the UK is that the community, although regionally strong, is somewhat fragmented; that outside of the obvious stars, poets are not as widely known to each other as I expected, either across regions, or across genres; and that there are surprisingly few journals or small presses, and even fewer diverse platforms. I understand funding constraints; but I’d love to see more networking across all social media (except the bird site, of course); more zoom reading series and workshops; more cross-pollination at these events, and for sure more overt inclusivity, for example on mastheads. Also – and I say this as a white man, albeit not a conventional one – I’d love to see less reverence for the traditional English canon at the expense of contemporary world poetry.
AP: What do you most appreciate about the current writing community, and how do you think we can build on these strengths?
JM: I do appreciate the strength of local poetry communities, reflecting an extensive interest in the art and practice of poetry; local readings, stanzas, festivals – especially those, like Cheltenham, that offer online options – and access to local radio, all give me the impression that poetry is popular and thriving. My background is much more in the academic approach to poetry, which I know is not everyone’s preference; but I have been teaching an evening class at a local art college, and I’d say there is an appetite not only for learning more about the craft of poetry, but also for looking at the wider world of poetic influences. I’d love to see more UK poets sharing experience and sharing work across the country and beyond.
AP: Can you discuss a particular poet or literary figure who has significantly influenced your work?
JM: This is always a difficult question. On the one hand, how to choose just one poet? On the other hand, I’m not sure I’m the best judge of influences on my work. But I’m going to go with my usual answer, Adrienne Rich. Rich’s combination of intellect, advocacy, and humanity; her ability to write big poems about big ideas and still be connected to the individual experience; her feeling for language, for what language can do, and also what the absence of language can do; her translation of all these elements into the shape and sound of a poem; these are all qualities that I aspire to, whether I succeed or not.
AP: What advice would you give to emerging poets who are looking to find their voice and audience?
JM: I’d say that choosing poetry is choosing language as more than a means to an end. Read poets you love, and poets you don’t love, as a writer reads, figuring out how each poet uses language in all its dimensions to convey and enhance meaning. Then experiment. With space, with line, with image and imagery, with profusion and restraint, with any and every variation on any language you know. Hear the music. Break the “rules” – they aren’t real. And along the way you I believe you will find your voice. Then get your words out into the world, every which way. Get to know other poets, locally and globally, on social media, via readings and open mics, in person or online. Take a class or sign up for a workshop, if that’s your jam. Tell your favorite poet that you love their work – you’ll have a friend for life. I’m an introvert, I know community building and sharing work can be daunting, but community is key to being seen and heard, and to getting published. Once you’ve found your voice, you should be heard.
AP: How do you balance the artistic and practical aspects of being a poet, such as creative expression and the need for promotion?
JM: An interesting question. I think the honest answer is that I don’t do enough of either to have any balancing issues, especially now that my time is mostly my own. I also think that, for me at least, the artistic and practical aspects complement each other, and reflect who I am as a person who is creative in private and in public, when I’m performing (promoting) a public persona.
Here’s a new poem from Jude of which they say:
‘I began this last April, when I challenged myself to draft a poem every day. The first version was
much longer, and more of a rant than a poem. But I could see and hear phrases that seemed
promising. Revision mostly consisted of pulling out those phrases and discarding the rest,
followed by a rearrangement of lines until – hopefully – the poem makes sense. I switched out
the original working title for a line I saw in a Bluesky post. The final touch. I want a reader to hear the music of the poem, and to have that music enhance meaning. I want to leave room for a reader to feel, and to think. The draft is complete, for now. But not necessarily forever.’
Most of the Universe is Darkness
the world’s dust blows
a neon lake shifts, surreptitious
roads retreat
as oceans negotiate
with glaciers, wetlands
transform, power
lines shrivel, wildfires alternate
ice cities take shape, salt encrusted
reservoirs decay, oil recedes
on desert farmland, a ragged fence
collapses
to rise again as trees
plants surge below a network of birds.
