4 Questions with Luther Hughes
Today, we published two poems by Luther Hughes: “Ekphrasis” and “Nocturne.” Michael Colbert and Emily Lowe spoke with them about ekphrastic writing, narrative poetry, desire, and grief.
Michael Colbert: I was so impressed by "Ekphrasis." The relationship dynamics and the identification between the speaker and the urn are endlessly rich. Can you speak about the genesis of this poem and its influences?
Luther Hughes: The inspiration of the poem came solely from the art itself. I have an album of "inspirations" on my phone, and one day I felt like writing a poem. Sometimes, I don't know what to write, but I know I feel like writing, so that album is sort of a backup when the feeling strikes but the Muse doesn't help. From there, I saw that I had saved an image of the urn and from there, I just began writing. As I began describing the piece, I thought about the beauty of the body, and then the beauty of the queer body, and then the beauty of threesomes. I think any consensual sexual acts between queer bodies are lovely, and it was very cool to see this represented in an ancient piece of art. However, for me, visual art is exciting when I'm able to reflect on my own experiences. And so, got me thinking about the first time I had a threesome and the beauty of it, my life during that time, and what I allowed myself to give into.
Emily Lowe: One component of "Ekphrasis" that I loved was its almost narrative style. The poem feels like the sharing of a story, punctuated by direct calls to the reader. How does narrative and storytelling play into your poetic style?
LH: I've told my friends that I strongly believe I'm a narrative poet. They don't believe me, lol, but I think now, with these new poems, I've fallen more into it, because I sincerely do love a good story. I love getting swept up into a story. I love falling in love with characters or their experiences. I love following plots from point A to point B. I love the rhetoric behind storytelling. This all, I think, stems from my love of romcoms. The way those stories are told inspires me. It takes so much skill to be able to write a successful romcom. For me, in my writing, I want to tell a story--whether it's linear or not. Since my poems tend to lean on images as a propeller, I use narrative and storytelling to get me and the reader from image to image. I also think that images cannot rest solely on themselves in my poems--every image, I believe, has a story behind it.
EL: I love your differing use of "you" within these two poems. In "Ekphrasis," "you" directly references the reader, while in "Nocturne," the "you" is much more intimate; the poem feels both for the reader and not. Can you talk about how your poetry both speaks to the reader and, at other times, speaks beyond them?
LH: Using "you" to speak directly to the reader is something I'm actually playing around with. I did it maybe once or twice in my first book, A Shiver in the Leaves, but I didn't think talking directly to the reader was important because the book is so self-centered in many ways. However, now I'm feeling a little more external and a little more responsive to public perceptions of desire and grief. Also, in "Ekphrasis," I'm, in a way, commenting on art, and it felt disingenuous to engage with art without engaging with the public given the context of the piece itself. Also, if I'm being honest, it felt fun for me to be like "hey, reader, I see you there."
For "Nocturne," the "you" is a much more personal address. While the "you" isn't named, this address, I hope, feels more intimate to the speaker and therefore not up for public consumption. The use of the two--public and private--depends on the content and the mood necessary for the reader and for myself.
MC: Forgive the cliche, but this line in "Nocturne" truly gave me goosebumps: "I study the love your love/ has fashioned and remember that it never leaves;/ it becomes a new taste over time." How were you thinking about this haunting in the poem?
LH: Oh interesting that you called it a "haunting." I guess, by definition, the love from the "you" is a sort of haunting, given that it lingers and it's not put to rest. To pull back the veil a bit here, this poem is about my mother who has passed away. She is the "you" here. And so, as I'm understanding grief, I'm also understanding the love she had for me and how her love has changed me with her passing, and thus changing my love for my loved ones--specifically my fiance, who my mother absolutely adored. So, the "haunting" isn't the typical eerie or chilling sort of haunting, but more of a welcoming and warm sort of haunting. I was hoping to convey this within the poem.
