Staff Spotlight: Jonathan Pessant

Staff Spotlight: Jonathan Pessant

Interview

What do you write? 

As a poet, I write poems about my time in the U.S. Army, working at the United States Dis­ci­pli­nary Bar­racks as a cor­rec­tion­al guard; I write poems about city and country life, and how they are simul­ta­ne­ous­ly par­al­lel yet their own ecosys­tem; I write poems about rural land­scapes, whether they are in the far future or distant past.

Is there an author or artist who has most pro­found­ly influ­enced your work?

This is dif­fi­cult. I’ve lived for 43 years, and have been pro­found­ly influ­enced by many things at dif­fer­ent stages in my life. Early in my life, and still to this day, I was and am enam­ored with Japan­ese culture. I’ve read James Clavell’s Shogun many times since I first dis­cov­ered it when I was a teenag­er. To me, the 1,152-page novel is pure his­tor­i­cal enter­tain­ment. In my later years, closer to present day, I was assigned to read Kate Chopin’s The Awak­en­ing in an Intro to Lit­er­a­ture class. It was, and is, a rev­e­la­tion. Of ideas. Of mas­ter­ful sen­tences. Of turning points in my pat­terns of thought. And The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel, because of her sheer world­build­ing acumen.

Why did you choose Stonecoast?

In 2017, just after grad­u­at­ing from the Uni­ver­si­ty of South­ern Maine, I attend­ed the Stonecoast Writers’ Con­fer­ence during the summer. I was really impressed with…well, every­thing. The work­shop leaders, Theodo­ra Goss and Laurie Albanese, were amazing. The logis­ti­cal team of Justin, Matt, and Robin were warm and wel­com­ing. I really didn’t even have to think about it, I wanted to go to Stonecoast for my MFA.

What is your favorite Stonecoast memory?

I received a com­pli­ment from a fellow poet in my class last semes­ter. It was unex­pect­ed and real, and it resounds in my head each time I think, ‘What the hell am I doing trying to be a poet.’ Thank you, Becky.

What do you hope to accom­plish in the future?

To live by the ocean with a large library and an endless supply of time.

If you could have written one book, story, or poem that already exists, which would you choose?

Quiver by Susan Somers-Willett. Within the fertile ground of science history and poetry lies this richly tender book of poetry. My favorite poem from this col­lec­tion is “First Sex.” It is a cross pol­li­na­tion of sensual sounds and Gregor Mendel’s work.


Featured Work

The fol­low­ing are poems by Jonathan Pessant exclu­sive­ly for Stonecoast Review.

Coyote

I hear the coyotes howling from my bedroom window
and I am excited, ecsta­t­ic at the prospect
of dying in the dark.

I want to touch their
fur and fangs, 
and I want to caress them into submission.

Their song is unnat­ur­al from my window,
I turn out the lights to hear them better and for a moment
they are quiet, search­ing for me, or for my still-fear.

In between their cries, the pine crick­ets break
the silence. There are wild moments I can’t col­lapse, 
I walk out into their mouths.

I can’t wait to walk in the city, walk down­town,
walk on pave­ment and brick, walk where people
have spit their kisses, walk upon the dreams of the young
and the dreams of the old and the dreams of the dreams.
I walk the city
and hear talk
from the windows
I don’t recognize.

I look up the side of the build­ing
and hear music
I don’t rec­og­nize.
I hear the air con­di­tion­er drip, I hear the wind through the screens,
I hear the baby laugh­ing, and I laugh, and she laughs, and I laugh.

I hear the ocean
of cars in the dis­tance,
each wave honking, each wave revving, speed­ing up, slowing
I sense I’m about to step in shit, and side­step
I sense the home­less man I smiled at stuck out his tongue as I passed.

There are wild moments I can’t col­lapse  
into a single foot­step, some­times I feel I am the whisper
in the city, waiting
to belong, to reclaim, to give up
to step and step and step and step.

If I am not the coyote in this story.

cousins

my grand­moth­er is a giant,
like an oak in the back­yard,
pro­vid­ing.

We: Tonya, Billy, CJ, Bubba,
Susan, James, Vanessa, Marta,
Jonathan, Nick, Kate, Mae

We run to her branch-arms,
they are open, swaying. Who
will get there first? Who

will not stumble on the dirt,
who will push who into
the dirt, who will she love 
first? who will she pick
a four-leaf clover for, who
will get their second leaf

pressed in plastic wrap
for pos­ter­i­ty? We are all
trans­par­ent, and treacherous.


Jonathan Pessant is a poet living in a red-roofed cottage at the end of a mile-long dirt road in Durham, Maine. He is cur­rent­ly attend­ing the Uni­ver­si­ty of South­ern Maine’s Stonecoast MFA program. His life of service includes the U.S. Army, the Peace Corps, and Ameri­corps. Jonathan vol­un­teers at an ele­men­tary school in Port­land, Maine men­tor­ing K‑5th graders.



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