National Poetry Month Spotlight: Frank Matagrano

Allowing the Body to Finally Speak
This request will be in the voice
***of a propaganda film asking
the country for nylons and chocolate
***bars, a wish that will trail off
like music from a car window,
***like foreplay, like a series
of horseshoes and hand grenades.
***I am partial to the idea
of making love as a means
***of stalling death, of allowing
the body to finally speak
on the spirit’s behalf: I want
***to be touched by a stranger
in the back seat of a car
***so that there is a darkness
to fear again. Boo: that’s my new term
***of endearment. It’s Cajun.
(Poem first published in 32 Poems.)

Q: Where is your favorite place to write?
A: At home in close proximity to the coffee pot.
Q: Do you remember the first poem you read that really blew your mind?
A: John Milton, “Sonnet XXIII: Methought I Saw My Late Espousèd Saint.”  The last line is nothing short of murder, still knocks me off my feet after all these years.
Q: What is the most interesting thing that has happened to you in the last 12 months?
A: In August, I spent a lovely week in London during which I took a long drive to see Stonehenge first hand.  Sorry, but it’s just a bunch of rocks.

Frank Matagrano is the author of I Can Only Go As Fast As the Guy in Front of Me (Black Lawrence Press).  A chapbook of his poems, Sagging from the Weight of Hope, was recently published by Pudding House Publications.  He currently lives in Chicago, Illinois.