Q&A with Matthew Dickman

Portland poet Matthew Dickman writes poems that seem capable of making readers fall (back) in love with poetry. His work is accessible to those not well versed in the form’s lineage, yet woven precisely enough to carry that lineage forward and entice the younger generation of American literati. His newest book Mayokovsky’s Revolver focuses on his older brother’s suicide and the evolution of grief through time. We recently caught up with Dickman to discuss his new book, Portland’s kinetic energy and the future of poetry. Don't miss Dickman's reading on Oct. 20 at Elliot Bay Books.

Mayakovsky's Revolver got started while living in Marfa, Texas. I had wanted to write a long poem and kept getting stuck. So I turned to a shorter poem and became interested in what all a person could pack into a shorter poem. That the book's central theme is grief grew organically.
 
How did you know when you’d finished?

I have this vague idea that I know I'm finished with a poem when I feel that I am at rest with some sort of truth.
 
Many writers abandon their hometowns in favor “The Big City.” How does Portland keep her grasp on you?

Portland has a kind of rainy kinetic energy. I have a lot of ghosts here and they seem to be good for my writing.
 
Beyond poetry you’ve been a copywriter for a Super Bowl halftime spot starring Clint Eastwood and played a role in 2002’s Minority Report—any other non-literary forays you’d like to make?

I would like to learn how to paint. I have some amazing friends who paint. People like Amy Bernstein and Victor Maldonado. Both are incredible artists and I'm always moved by their work and others. I want to know how it feels to put paint on something.

 
You’re reading at Elliot Bay Books on Saturday—what are three things you try to do whenever you’re in Seattle?

I like visiting the Seattle Art Museum, eating a sandwich at Salumi, and visiting my friends at Wessel and Lieberman Books!
 
You currently work at the literary magazine Tin House—what do you get out of that job that you don’t get out of writing your own work?

One of the most important things I get from editing at Tin House is the good news that poetry is bigger than us, that it holds all of us, has so many different lives. No one should worry about poetry. Poetry will be alive and important as long as civilizations exist on the planet earth.