Profiles in Poetry: Frank Matagrano

His stance is reminiscent of that of the late James Dickey, who once told me, "I sold my soul to the devil by day so I could write poetry at night." Like all writers, Frank has a vision of the ideal. "If I had my way," he says, "I'd spend my afternoons smoking cigarettes, writing letters to old friends, getting up from time to time, stretching, changing the disc in the stereo, but I don't. I've learned, after much kicking and screaming, to accept that one side feeds the other...my days at a desk are tempered by nights of Tetris, hours spent sticking the odd shapes together into complete rows, and vice versa."

Inspiration has its seasons and sources. Matagrano prefers writing in the summer--"strapped to the desk, locked in the apartment, fan whirring, a cup of coffee that never gets cold because it's so damned humid in New York." He credits Puddinghouse Publications for believing in his earliest efforts.

"Years ago, fresh out of college, clueless to the racket, and arrogant as all hell, I submitted a bundle of poems to Pudding," he recalls. He received a rejection slip. "Rejections are a dime a dozen, " he continues, "but in this case, it was how the bundle was rejected that will stay with me. The mixmaster behind the Pudding turntable, Jennifer Bosveld, took the time to write a two page letter explaining everything I did wrong. In retrospect, this was a wonderful kick in the head. No one tells you these things." He says he kept that letter, and his opinion of his publisher is very high. "Pudding's been around for a long time, twenty years, maybe longer," he notes. "There's a genuine affection for poetry there, a constant effort to push it into the fold, and a willingness to embrace all writers: young, old, novice, and experienced."

Frank will serve as Guest Editor for the second issue of Samsara due out in August. He says the staff is "constantly combing high and low for strong material from fresh voices."

Keep an eye out for more of Frank Matagrano's work. All those sleepless nights of his will surely produce some excellent poetry for those of us who sometimes fill our own sleepless nights by reading the works of others.

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