Interview
Why do you write?
I write because I’m hopeless without it.
Is there an author who has most profoundly influenced your work?
The first author that blew my socks off was Kurt Vonnegut. Although my focus is mainly poetry, it was the impact of his novels—the dark humor and imaginative stories, that opened my mind and instilled in me a sense of creative limitlessness. I have to include James Baldwin here as well. His poetry and prose are the most timeless and powerfully truthful critiques of American society that I have ever read. He has greatly influenced my drive to write from a place of social awareness and to use the written word to challenge my own privilege and bias.
Recently, Cate Marvin introduced me to Denis Johnson’s Incognito Lounge which has shifted and informed my approach to crafting imagery in my work.
Why did you choose Stonecoast?
I discovered Stonecoast while searching for a next step. I had spent the prior few years blowing my life up and was lucky enough to eventually find myself living in Portland, Maine with the opportunity of a clean slate. I knew that I wanted to pursue writing more seriously and attended the USM open-house for Master’s programs. There I met Justin Tussing and within a year was applying to be a poetry student. I chose this program because I want to be a good writer, and to do that I need a lot of help from others who trudge the same path. The sincerity and dedication that I have encountered in my short time as a student in this program has shown me I came to the right place.
What is your favorite Stonecoast memory?
As a first semester student, I have a pretty small pool of memories to draw from. Though my first residency was certainly memorable. Between the seminars, workshop experiences, and direct contact with peers, my fascination with the literary arts was renewed. The most standout of the experiences being the second half workshop with Lauren Marie Schmidt and the generative poetry that we created and shared with one another.
What do you hope to accomplish in the future?
I want to be the best damn poet I can be. I know nothing about where writing is going to take me. I ruminate constantly on my dreams of being published, working as an editor, or performing as a slam poet. However, I can’t imagine any future successes would feel nearly as sweet if I don’t first put in the work to deepen my craft. This is why I chose to pursue an MFA in creative writing and why I work daily on being a better and more honest writer. That’s it, I try to keep it in the day right now.
If you could have written one book, story, or poem that already exists, which would you choose?
I really don’t want to have written anyone else’s poem or book. What I am interested in is being influenced by other poets, then taking that inspiration and using it to evoke the same effect for another poet or reader. I want to give the feeling they gave me, to someone else, if I can do that, I will have succeeded as a writer. I see it as transitive, a continuum of sorts.
That said, a poem that has recently blown my mind is Doug Anderson’s, A Bar In Argos from his book The Moon Reflected Fire. It is a brutal and profound example of a poet being able to masterfully inhabit a character that challenges mainstream narratives and gives a voice to those who are usually not the observer. I had to recover after reading the poem, it’s so raw.
Featured Work
The following is a work of poetry by Carter Cumbo exclusively for Stonecoast Review.
Lafayette, Anywhere
I was never meant
to be the one who Jesus
died for. A million other sinners:
how many were mortal
wagers of my absolution?
Neighbors pooled
in the Blood of Christ
across the city like a holy
murder spree, the scarlet
collateral of a miracle
they never received. Sin-
eaters of the ashes left scattered
as I ascended to safety, a miracle
distantly rising
above the mega-church,
blaring its rock band
evangelism across
overflow parking lots,
above the strip malls
and cul-de-sacs, cement
circle art against the
brown and tan patchwork
of arid farmland forever,
watching it all
shrink to spittle,
in the yawning oval of
an airplane window,
little Lafayette, Colorado,
cracked cement porches
entombing haunted mine shafts,
one percenters with pregnant
teen daughters, asleep in houses
swallowing Model X Tesla’s daily,
single mothers with teen sons
in rehab, paid for by stretched
paychecks and losing sleep daily.
Dead brothers on drugs in the arms
of live brothers on
the same drugs, lovers
mourning spirits
with bottom shelf ghosts,
somewhere in between
living and dead.
I heard the Boulder money
rumbled in, booming cannons
of Patagonia clad conquistadores, hailing down
indie boutiques and a dozen options for brunch,
attacking any empty space inside brick
and mortar with craft beer and cornhole.
That Public Road is splattered
in flamboyant street art,
commuters at the bus stop
the enduring subjects of a
scene undecided between Norman
Rockwell and Dr. Seuss.
I heard the Sonic
is now a bar for dogs.
Aaron’s tattoo says his parents are on fire,
Jaime’s parents are just her mom,
Wesley’s parents aren’t parents anymore,
my parents are doing just fine.
Another balancing act of god
tilted in my favor.
As though I was bathed
in a whiter light, and
my friends are bursting
incandescent, burning cigarette-
yellow, smoldering over apartment
railings and under parked cars,
inhaling the exhaust
like addled street cats, eyes glowing
to behold a bloody sunrise.
Dear Lafayette, Colorado
little Anywhere America,
dear Anywhere Americans.
If you’re still alive, and not too
busy being the punchline
of this poem,
I have not forgotten,
here in Portland, Maine
wondering if I ever left you,
if being saved is just the same
as being somewhere different
then the first anywhere.
Now, I dream my friends speak
To me, those cats, slyly from
the corner of their mouths,
the cigarette bobbing between
chattering teeth, mumbling,
we were never really friends.
Carter Cumbo is a poet and former Hip-Hop artist from Lafayette, CO. He currently resides in Portland, ME where he works as an affordable housing property manager at Avesta Housing and is a first semester poetry student at the Stonecoast MFA program. He is a first reader for the Stonecoast review as well as a contributor for Inflectionsmagazine, an online feminist publication that promotes social justice and creative writing. He spends his free time over-thinking everything and crying in the shower.