Clifford Brooks has always struck me as the untamable sort,
a well-intentioned and sometimes bombastic southern soul who writes, teaches,
connects, impacts, and inspires through his work and endless supply of creative
energy. He’s an intriguing character and I wanted to tug on his sleeve about a
few poetic issues, so here you are. Check out his bio below to find out more
about his books and The Southern Collective Experience. - James Duncan
All over social media I see you posting quotes from your own
work and from others and sometimes they’re funny and sometimes inspirational,
intending to give people a kick in the ass to get writing, and it makes me
wonder, what gets your ass in the writer’s chair? What’s the drive behind your
work?
I get in the writer’s chair because it’s the only seat in
the house where I feel in control. William Faulkner said there are two
kinds of writers, “Those that write, and then those that talk about it.” I
don’t have all the answers, but I do own a few. Do the work. Writing
is a vocation like all others which require dedication and absolute
concentration. However, I do not cleave to the idea you must sit down
every day at the same time to create. Sometimes I like to nap. It’s a
blessing of the craft that demands it all at the front gates before the Fates
allow entry. The quotes are always a shock to me. I talk like a
machine gun. There is havoc not too far beneath my flesh. Yet, in
that chair, writing, letting the world wail out of me—rested there, I am free.
That’s the best reason to sit anywhere, as I see it.
In 2012 your book The Draw of Broken Eyes and Whirling
Metaphysics snagged you nominations for the Pulitzer and Georgia Author of the
Year. Now you have a new book coming out. What changed for you creatively since
the last book? How is the 2015 version of you different from the 2012 version?
The new book, Athena Departs, picks up where The Draw of
Broken Eyes and Whirling Metaphysics left off. The new material is born
from a place far more mature and self-assured that the frightened child
introduced several years ago. The grace of writing books over 200 pages is
that you have plenty of time to create the new installment.
Athena Departs deals with some issues and family members
that I wasn’t equipped to put on paper several years ago. In the hard
lessons, bad love, and great midnight
runs since I began touring, I’ve grown into a man who is able to keep moving
forward with the scope of his comfort zone. I aim to continue the trend of
writing poetry that’s accessible and not cryptic bullshit. It’s about the
story. When you write with complete honesty, folks just assume you’re
being metaphorical.
The one thing that hasn’t changed is that I seem genetically
incapable to make relationships work. It’s more of an amusement, that
morose statement of fact. And it makes some gorgeous songs. It is
always, only, about the music.
My third book is an epic of autobiographical havoc called The
Salvation of Cowboy Blue Crawford. It has been the most cathartic and
thoroughly fun thing to create since I began in poetry. There is an album
being adapted to it and one individual in LA who wants to see the rough draft
for possible adaptation into a short film. I couldn’t make this madness up
if I tried. A charmed life is not always pleasant, but it’s never boring.
When you say you’re genetically incapable of making
relationships work, do you think the art has anything to do with that? By this
I mean that I know some comedians who, like writers and poets, reveal a lot of
intimate and personal details about their life and relationships in their work,
and they’re brutally honest about those things and it can make people
uncomfortable, especially those in romantic relationships. Do you ever see the
effects of that, or are the subjects in your work somewhat oblivious to their
appearance in your poetry?
What I think you’re referring to are performers who give the
audience intimate facts about someone they are currently dating, or announce
potentially embarrassing details about family, for a cheap laugh. I think
it’s a tacky, grossly-disrespectful form of humor. It is equally uncalled
for in writing. The person or persons that are being attacked have no way
of defending themselves or retaliating. I talk about failed relationships,
but I don’t give names or specifics that may shame them. I note the faults
on both sides without melodrama. I think that my problem with
relationships is just—personal.
What I mean is a general statement concerning my mercurial
nature and endless side projects for which I have an undying passion. I am
distracted. I am obsessive about the perfect harmony of one syllable
singing into the next. Nothing is more important that the piece in front
of me. Eating, sleeping, and making small talk all become expendable when
I have a deadline to meet. The work is forever. Love is fleeting in
the flesh and easily replaced. (At least, that is what I tell myself to
make the wound less of an ache.)
Being born in the South, and thus with a unique sense of decency,
if a poem is written in the time I’m in love, it’s always endearing, adoring,
and never tells too much about how she is the sole star in my heaven. This
is to save some intimacy for only us. In the event our affection is dead,
I do not attack her because the end has never been a one-way street, and again,
she isn’t allowed her say in the matter. Writing poetry isn’t about
regressing to rumors spread in fourth grade. (Plus, if the woman is an
attorney, there is a good chance you’ll get sued!)
Staying on the topic of rubbing people the wrong way, one of
my favorite quotes from you is “I never aim for anybody, but I won’t swerve to
avoid hitting them, either.” I liked it so much I posted that to Hobo Camp’s
Facebook page because I saw it as a statement of being true to yourself and
your work, but I was surprised by how many people projected that as a violent
worldview (something I disagree with). What I’m wondering is, how does a poet
keep his or her edge without hurting someone? (Something I find important as an
artist.)
The motto is made from wisdom I learned from great men I
still consider immortal. My philosophy may sound cruel, but I’m not going to
swerve in order to miss a dog, and possibly killing me or
others. Likewise, I am not going to cheat anyone, but I won’t hesitate to
have a come-to-Jesus-meeting with someone who cheats me. I don’t aim to
irritate anyone, but it’s bound to happen. I don’t use vulgarity for shock
value, or tackle sensitive topics with a sledgehammer to create a gross sense
of shock. I believe that a poet keeps his or her edge by being exactly who
they are all the time. The edge is natural. There is a honing to the use
of that edge, which includes how to use tact. There are many ways to say
what you need to say without embarrassing yourself or someone else. If an
artist simply wants to lash out, it’s going to come across that way and only
show the shallow heart and childish nature of the one penning the words. It
is a case-by-case basis, but I’ve never found a case that can’t be edgy while
retaining enough couth to count for great literature—not hate mail.
One of the other most important things for me as an artist
and a human, and something I think we’re losing as a society, is the ability to
listen, especially to critiques about our work. I sometimes see poets online
react with some stunning force and violence when someone finds their work not
up to par or even hurtful (intended or otherwise), and I’m always surprised by
knee-jerk aggressive reactions to this. How do you handle critical reviews of
your own work, especially if you don’t agree with the critique?
You just hit the nail on the head. I see all critiques
of my work as useful, although I’ve never had anyone attack my work, and I’ve
never had cause to do that to anyone else. I think that being earnest and
honest breeds mutual respect faster than anything else. I practice this in
art, and in life as much as humanly possible. And if everyone is telling
you that you’re brilliant and all your words are flawless—someone is lying.
Artists and literary journals have contacted me after I
mentioned online the design of the open mic nights for The Southern Collective
Experience, which we plan to launch this year. They will be called The
Collective Sessions, and the point is to have the public feel safe to showcase
their work and then witness how adults critique that work without
malice. A vast majority of open mic nights I’ve seen do not have the
critique element, and thus (I believe) a fantastic chance to get better is lost.
If an artist cannot take a constructive nudge one way or the other, they will not make it far on the main stage. If the public do not want to participate in the critique portion of The Collective Sessions, they don’t have to. Yet, they can watch, see that it isn’t about making others feel small, and then participate in the next go-around.
I sometimes feel poetry is a cannibalistic or incestuous
art, in that poets seem to be reading and seeking out poetry, but I don’t
always see many non-poets doing so. Am I wrong? I’m totally willing to be wrong
here. I guess the better question is, what’s the real-world impact of poetry on
our society today?
I think there are more “closet poets/poetry-readers” out there than we see. This isn’t me being hopeful, it is a pleasant surprise I’ve come into over the past few years. I believe the reason for this is that poetry has been shelved as too cryptic, haughty, and\or pompous to pull out in full view. Some folks I’ve talked to fear that they’ll be assumed to possess these negative qualities if seen reading it in public. This is something that I understand, and never get bent about. But we need to break the clichés and be good citizens as well as healthy, business-minded men and women. The American dream is just as valid with us as it is with any other vocation. Work hard, sacrifice, chew through the hard times, and the Universe will meet you half way with blessings and breaks to sleep.
The impact of poetry on society today is immense. Songs
are poetry, and music is the voice of God. These are facts. When
enough poets take verse back, and far away from the Eliot/Pound “Look What
Arcane Shit I Know-Languages I Speak that You Don’t” vault, you’ll see an
increased amount of interest from the public. People want a story that leaves
enough room for them to dance, but a story that doesn’t leave them alienated on
the floor all alone. Poetry is about an emotional marriage with the
public, not a confusing divorce. Poets need to be the chasers of
butterflies and the victors in every bar fight.
The goal is to create a family that isn’t about
back-stabbing, pointless competition, or selfish want. We’ve done just
that. The roster is full, and the first issue of our magazine, The
Copperhead Arts & Literary Review just hit the internet. A radio show
started last year, and Dante’s Old South will begin taping with Chattanooga ,
TN
Yet, the soul here is family. It’s a labor of love and
laughter that’s serious when it’s essential, and a party when it needs to
be. Our contribution to poetry, and art in general, is to show that instead
of becoming a movement of causalities, success (paying bills) is achieved by
doing the damn thing and that this isn’t selling out. All of us took time
to study the “movements” of the past to see what worked and what
didn’t. From there we planted a flag in the United States of Artists Not
in Favor of Suicide. It’s been pretty kosher thus far.
Who are you reading nowadays? Who really has you excited to see what they create next?
Who are you reading nowadays? Who really has you excited to see what they create next?
I love the work of Dan Veach, Robert Pinsky, Charles Simic,
Rainer Maria Rilke, Carl Sandburg, Lawrence Monsanto Ferlinghetti, Thomas
Sayers Ellis, and Edna St. Vincent Millay. Obviously, some of these fine
people cannot write anymore due to death (though that would be cool with
Halloween around the corner) but those still with us keep me hopeful, happy,
and out of harm’s way. Many of my other literary heroes who draw breath on
this planet are eager and open to share their ideals and fears with me after
it’s proven that I am not a hanger-on, sycophant, or stooge. To get ahead
in this business, you must be very careful who you associate with and the
groups you cleave to as your own. These men and women I’ve come into
contact with have only made my life richer (emotionally, in-craft, and
academically) for it.
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Bio: Clifford Brooks is a poet, teacher, and rebel working
out his dreams in North Georgia . He and Joe
Milford sat ten years ago mulling over how to pull a family, and business, out
of art. Over that decade Clifford’s book, The Draw of Broken
Eyes& Whirling Metaphysics, earned a Pulitzer and Georgia Author of the
Year nomination. Yet, more importantly, his passion born sitting beside his
best friend has come to fruition – The Southern Collective Experience is on the
map. This collection of artists of all genres is still in its infancy, but can
be found by the same name on Facebook and at www.southerncollectiveexperience.com.
He is nearing the completion of Athena Departs, a collection of verse that
continues where his last book left off; and The Salvation of Cowboy Blue
Crawford, an epic with autobiographical intent.
Brilliant interview with a brilliant artist and visionary!
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