AUDIO TRANSCRIPT

The Poetry Magazine Podcast: Taneum Bambrick and Su Cho on Intimacy and Poetry

(If you notice a mistake in the transcript, please let us know by emailing [email protected])

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Taneum Bambrick:

(READS EXCERPT FROM “This breakup has me believing in god”)

My loneliness is its own boat full of the same multiplied rat.

My body belongs to god,

Su Cho: Welcome to the Poetry Magazine Podcast. I’m Su Cho. Today, I’m so excited to sit down with Taneum Bambrick, and talk about my two favorite things: poetry and intimacy. Taneum Bambrick is the author of Intimacies, Received, recently out from Copper Canyon Press, and Vantage. Their chapbook Reservoir was selected by Ocean Vuong for the Yemassee chapbook price. Vuong wrote, “This is poetry that encompasses, that lets no one turn away.” And that’s exactly how I felt reading van Bambrick’s poems in this month’s issue of Poetry. I can’t wait for you to hear the poems to Taneum, welcome to the podcast! And congratulations on the publication of Intimacies, Received.

Taneum Bambrick: Thank you so much for having me. I’m so excited to be here. It’s so nice to meet you.

Su Cho: Yeah, it’s nice to meet you, too. Yeah, I feel like I’ve seen you on, like, the internet so many times.

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: And I always wondered, like, what will they be like? So, yeah, already, I’m really stoked.

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHS) Me too. The feeling is very mutual.

Su Cho: (LAUGHS) So, to get started, I wanted to say that your poems make me feel incredibly shy and really brave at the same time. And I really want to emphasize when I say make me, because I feel like I can’t look away from the poems, right. And I feel like the poems are telling me to like, sit down and listen. And so we’ll hear three new poems from you today. But before that, I was actually wondering if you could talk about what it was like writing these poems?

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah, the three poems that are going to be in this issue of Poetry magazine, I wrote all three of them in one day, in one sitting, which, for me, is an impossible thing that never happens. And when I look at these three poems, I think of them as like the spectrum of like, what you experience after a really terrible breakup. It goes from “Reminds me,” which feels like a really angry poem to me, and I don’t normally write into my anger, so that was kind of an important exercise. And then “The breakup has me believing in god,” which is just like, sorrow, intense, stay-in-bed-all-day sadness, and then the “Drinking for free” poem, which I think is like a little bit more of an acceptance. And I think some of my sense of humor comes into that poem, too. So yeah, I feel like I was going through very quick stages of grief (LAUGHS) and I wrote these poems in each of the stages, if that makes sense.

Su Cho: Yeah. Oh, that’s so interesting. Yeah. I would love to hear “Remind me.” Could you read that for us?

Taneum Bambrick: Of course. I would love to.

(READS “Remind me”)

If I believe him, he was a stranger
                 pulling the spiked strands of my hair around his wrist

like rope. Like the end of a long decision
                 about the limits of the self—and what privilege

to consider the construction of the self. Between blinks
                 his eyes were all white, like snake

bellies. At least now I don’t dream of  women
                 he hurt before me. Veins in a creek

laying my body over her body. At Stanford, he wrote,
                 I want to lick the back of your knees,

while I read poetry in a room of  hissing light.
                 One of the most important moments of my life

ended with three rifles locked in the loft above his bed.
                 He would say he didn’t know himself

when he asked me to marry him. Had a bowl
                 of harmonicas and coins from other countries.

Every night, he scoped bodies on a 40-inch screen
                 while I touched myself. White-neon-red

explosions branched across the ceiling.
                 I got so good at coming. I came through.

The only thing easier than loving someone else
                 is hiding yourself in someone’s love for you.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Su Cho: Thank you so much for reading that. I’m really interested by what you said before when you said these three poems were kind of like you going through the stages of grief very quickly. And you said “Remind me” is, you wrote into your anger. Is that right?

Taneum Bambrick: Yes.

Su Cho: Yeah. Which is really surprising, because I felt like the poem is just so intimate, I do feel like I’ve been shown like a little too much

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: of the speaker and like, really let in. And I felt really like, scared and on edge. And so, I actually wanted to ask you what was it like for you to read the poem out loud?

Taneum Bambrick: I read this poem out loud for the first time a couple days ago. And it was a really intense experience. And I also felt really shy, reading it out loud. And it’s, I think it’s the first poem I’ve ever talked about masturbating also, which is very vulnerable and personal. And I definitely feel like it’s a poem where I give a lot. And it’s a more vulnerable poem than what I’m comfortable with or used to. And yeah, reading it out loud, I did feel like I needed to kind of take a break and go for a walk after I did it the first time. And reading it today, it’s a similar feeling. But I really appreciate what you said about the poem. And it feels safe to do that here with you. So, thank you. (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: Yeah, and I, and I want to ask this question about anger.

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah.

Su Cho: Because I feel like when I tell people like, “This is my angry poem,” they kind of laugh at me, and they’re like, “Oh, but this feels like such a tender, nice poem. Like, where’s the anger?” And I’m like, “What?” You know, it confuses me a lot. But when you said that this one was like, uou’re writing into your anger, I was really surprised to hear that, because I feel like there’s just a way you wrote this poem with such almost tender observation. And I was hoping you could say a little more about what that feeling of anger was like for you when you were writing this poem.

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah, I remember a typical breakup scenario, I was like, living with someone, we broke up, I had to move back to my parents’ house between positions or jobs. I was just about to start my PhD program. And I was sitting at my parents’ kitchen table, and just started writing these poems. And I think that all three of the poems, but especially “Remind me,” grapple with a relationship dynamic, where you are really in love with someone, and maybe they love you, too, but there’s just like, frustrating roadblocks, that you literally cannot get over, no matter how you try to think your way through them. And that was the anger. It’s not necessarily directed at the person. It’s directed at that experience of being like, “Why can’t we like, think our way out of this? Why can’t we intellectualize ourselves out of this pattern? Out of these problems, when we love each other so much,” you know, and it’s a common problem. But I was in the middle of it when I wrote this poem, and it felt really raw. And yeah, so I think that the anger, maybe it feels tender, because I was still so in love when I wrote this poem. And, you know, and I’m being vulnerable here, too. I’m not using the terminology of “the speaker” like, I’m like, no, that was where I was at, you know. And so that’s, I guess that’s my answer about anger in the poem, if that makes sense.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Su Cho: Yeah, thank you for sharing that. I know it takes a lot to kind of share what you’re, like, currently working on and yours is still messy.

Taneum Bambrick: Yes.

Su Cho: Yeah, but I think it’s really nice to hear.

Taneum Bambrick: Thanks. Yeah.

Su Cho: So I appreciate it. Yeah. Can we hear the poem, “The breakup has me believing in god”?

Taneum Bambrick: Yes, of course.

(READS POEM)

“This breakup has me believing in god”

God, the canoe-shaped leaves sound like heaven
this morning on the cottonwoods outside my window.
Two days of orange smoke. This breakup
has me saying, why would god put so much love on my head
and cut half the cottonwoods down?
I wish I knew god so I wasn’t alone.
The rubbery smell of the fire and its cracking sounds.
The black bark in the grass could be the ends of cigars.
My heart coils into the softest brush snake.
My pussy aches how it ached in our apartment. God
I was grateful, watching him shake water from his gray hair.
In the yard there is a pile where the dead trees simmer
into coals and one rat scurries out.
My loneliness is its own boat full of the same multiplied rat.
My body belongs to god, or the man who owns the restaurant—
poured me an extra shot when I said I felt sad.
How was I taken home by that stranger when I could barely stand?
I was certain we would plant trees. I would wake and smell the golden sides
of his face every morning. I know only god could make
this rat scream. Before we broke up, he said he didn’t know himself
so he stole what made me. Orbs of ash fall slow,
pulling the stink from the sky. I am waiting to trust
this moment of feeling. It’s easier to ask god why.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Su Cho: Wow, thank you. Yeah, I love this, it’s kind of like a mythical creation story. Right, this poem? And I love the constant questioning like, of god and like, you know, using god as an anchor point, to carry on with this narrative. And yeah, I would love to know has god always been someone you converse with in your poetry?

Taneum Bambrick: Absolutely not, no.

Su Cho: (LAUGHS)

Taneum Bambrick: I think, yeah, and this is very vulnerable and to the point again, and I haven’t shared this anywhere else, except for maybe in this poem, but yeah, I wrote this poem in a really difficult moment. And I was going through this big breakup, and I went out with my friends and the owner of the bar roofied our drinks, both of us. It was this really horrible experience, and nothing happened, like, we made it home, okay, and everything, but it was like, this feeling of too many things at the same time to deal with.

Su Cho: Mm-hmm.

Taneum Bambrick: And so I think that the, I just started making jokes about god all the time, like as a coping mechanism, I think. I think when I feel really stressed, like, this is another habit that I’m thinking a lot about, but I will make jokes or I will try to be silly to look at that in a different way, so I can like, move, move on more quickly, maybe. But yeah, in this poem, you know, looking at body violation, losing the person you love, all in the same week, it’s like really a lowest low kind of a feeling.

Su Cho: Mm-hmm.

Taneum Bambrick: And so it did feel like a moment of recreation. It felt like there was a month-long stint that this poem is kind of in reference to of just feeling like, I’m not the same person anymore. And I think it was just because of being pushed to an extreme limit that I had never been pushed to before, and watching myself pull through that. And that sounds and is really sad. But it was also at the same time, a very, a very empowering feeling and a very, like, self-knowing and self-loving experience. And I think it changed who I am and how I talk about and see myself. So that felt like, like I would go to somewhere and something good would happen, and I’d be like, “Maybe god is real” (LAUGHS) to my friends and family. And I was like really feeling that, was just like, wow, but I think it was like a, not to be really cliché, but it was a moment of self belief or like believing that I had strength I didn’t know about that.

Su Cho: Mm.

Taneum Bambrick: I love that you talked—that you called it creation or mythmaking. Like I felt like I was pushed into such a surreal space that it felt almost religious, and I had never really experienced that before. I’ve pushed against religion my whole life, because I grew up in a really religious community. And I had a lot of reasons to push against it. But I—it’s interesting how, like, returning to those ideas during a moment of crisis, too, is like, can feel like a relief. You know, like I remember believing in God and thinking about air quotes “Him” (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: (LAUGHS)

Taneum Bambrick: when I was really sad as a kid, you know. And so, so I don’t know, it also, like it was such a hard moment that I felt childlike again too. I felt like—not childlike in an infantilizing way. Like in an old, like, sense of hope, or a sense of wonder and strength that I hadn’t felt in myself for a long time.

Su Cho: I too grew up in a super Christian household. And now after talking to you, like, the last line, it’s like just becoming clear to me. The poem ends, “I am waiting to trust / this moment of feeling. It’s easier to ask god why.” I was thinking like, “Oh, like, what does it mean that it’s easier to ask god why,” right? And as we were talking, I was like, “Oh, maybe it’s because like, this talk about vulnerability is really hard.”

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah.

Su Cho: Right? It takes constant effort. And so when you said like, it’s, you know, you feel childlike, like there’s a kind of comfort in that. That’s how I feel. Right? When things get rough, I’m like, “Well, let me believe this thing that I’m used to doing.” And so, could you, yeah, could you say a little bit more about like, where you grew up?

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah.

Su Cho: And we’re going like, way back in time, like, where you grew up and what that was like?

Taneum Bambrick: Yes, yes. So, my parents were not religious, but I grew up in a really small conservative town in Central Eastern Washington. And I say Central Eastern Washington, because it’s Central Washington, but everything that’s like, past the Cascade Mountains is like, that’s the east. That’s Eastern Washington. Because of the very different mindset across that line, I think, there’s like a lot of, of course, like, everywhere you go, there’s a lot of, always a lot of opinions and things happening, but I grew up in a place where like, there weren’t options. You could only vote for a conservative candidate. Like that, it was just like a very rural, very intense place. You know, this was like, I graduated in 2010. So it was before a lot of things had changed. It was like a really, really homophobic place. It still probably is. My parents are both scientists. So like, they were some of the only like, air quotes, again, “liberal” people in the town. (LAUGHS) And so, I just felt like a lot of times, like, in opposition to what was happening. That was fine. And I think it interested me. Yeah, I went to college outside Seattle and actually found it like, kind of boring because a lot of us felt the same ways about things, you know, and so there weren’t as many arguments.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

So I grew up, like, really accustomed to arguing, yeah. My mom grew up Catholic, but then she, I think, in college, I stopped feeling that way. And then my dad identifies as atheist. But like, almost all of my—I grew up in a very religious community. So I went to church a lot, many weekends, because I would go with my friends and their families, because I was interested and like, felt curious about religion. Probably like, to spite my dad. (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: (LAUGHS)

Taneum Bambrick: which is an interesting, like, opposite of how that normally goes. But yes.

Su Cho: I remember for me, I was in like, suburby Indiana, and

Taneum Bambrick: Oh, wow.

Su Cho: Yeah, but everyone, I mean, I went to like a very small Korean church, so everyone came with their families. And we would like, hear of these, like, kids. Well, they were like our age, who would, like, come by themselves. And we’re like, “What?” Like, we didn’t get it, right?

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: So it’s really interesting how, like, different communities really do differ.

Taneum Bambrick: Yes, totally.

Su Cho: And so I’m, yeah, so I’m really curious, since your dad’s proudly atheist, and you know, and your mom kind of moved on from Catholicism, but you’re in a really religious community, like, what was it like coming out in a place like that?

Taneum Bambrick: I don’t know, because I don’t know that I ever really did. And I realized I was queer, I think, when I was really young. Like, I remember whispering to someone like, “I think I might be bisexual” when I was 12. And then never talking about it again.

Su Cho: Hm.

Taneum Bambrick: I think probably, that’s because even though I knew when I was super young, that I had, you know, queer feelings, and that I had friendships that didn’t look like other people’s friendships. Like I remember my family, and even my teachers commenting on the intensity of my friendships with my best friends. One best friend in particular, there was this thing that happened every year to high school seniors where the two most popular teachers of the year would roast them. And like the entire class, and they would expose all these secrets they had heard about students and make fun of them for those secrets at this giant assembly. That was only the senior class, but it was still like, really traumatic and funny. And I remember looking forward to it, which is weird.

Su Cho: Mm.

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah. And so when it came to be my turn, they made a joke about how I had like, been known to shave my best friend’s legs. And they called us gay in front of the whole school without necessarily using the word, which is funny, because we both are queer now. And so, but at the time, it was like, kind of mortifying. And I think, you know, when I returned to my hometown–I’m intentionally not saying its name—when I returned to there, in college, and even now, it’s not something that I really talk about that often. I did read for my first book there at Central Washington University, and I had a student in the audience, say, like, “I’m also from this town. And I’m wondering if you can tell me, where are places that you feel safe here as a queer person?”

Su Cho: Mm.

Taneum Bambrick: And I had to like, try so hard not to cry. And we hugged and talked afterwards and had a really like, sweet moment. But I remember that feeling, that I still feel that way of just like, maybe something that’s really specific to small places. It’s just like looking so hard for somewhere where you can be yourself and where you can, like, actually talk about your feelings and not feel at risk or in danger. The town where I grew up is also, it’s like really famous for its rodeo. And I have a lot of feelings about the rodeo.

Su Cho: Can you describe the rodeo to me? Like, I don’t really know what a rodeo is except for like, horses or cows? (LAUGHING) Like, I don’t even know.

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHS) Yeah, the only thing I paid attention to about the rodeo were the rodeo queens. So I think they had to be really good at roping animals while on a horse and maybe doing jumps while on a horse. And whoever was the best at that was the rodeo queen. And they wore the most sexy outfits. And I, to this day, like, I wanted to be a rodeo queen so bad. My family was not like a horse family. So it wasn’t an accessible thing for me to accomplish.

Su Cho: (LAUGHS)

Taneum Bambrick: But I was always so in love with the rodeo queens. Yeah, so, but otherwise, I think there’s like, extreme bull riding. And they count how long you can stay on the bull. And ESPN would go every year, and it was this big deal. There’s also like animals that are being shown for

Su Cho: Oh okay, like how soft this bunny is? (LAUGHS)

Taneum Bambrick: Yes. Yeah. Soft bunny, yeah. (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: Or cow. Or horse.

Taneum Bambrick: The cows are so soft, actually. They’re like, so soft and blow dried and like, fluffy. Yeah, so I did grow up—that was like a big, that was something, I liked it, but I know that there’s a lot of thoughts about the treatment of animals in rodeos that I know nothing about.

Su Cho: Yeah.

Taneum Bambrick: But it’s an area for me to learn more about. But the rodeo culture, like I know a lot of my queer friends who I later discovered were also queer would talk about how that was like a scary time of the year.

Su Cho: Could you say more why?

Taneum Bambrick: I just think it’s like a lot of drinking, a lot of, like, hyper masculinity, a lot of people coming in from out of town. And I think that there’s always some danger in that kind of thing, too, because it’s not like where they live. And so the level of respect is different.

Su Cho: Hm. Have you been back to a rodeo there? Recently? Yeah.

Taneum Bambrick: I’ve actually, literally I’ve actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been to the rodeo.

Su Cho: Oh, okay.

Taneum Bambrick: I’ve just like, seen it—yeah, my friends and I would go sit on this hill overlooking it and watch it, but not actually go into the stadium itself. Which is like maybe a good metaphor (LAUGHING) of what that felt like.

Su Cho: Oh, okay. But you never went and like, paid admission. Okay, got it. Got it.

Taneum Bambrick: We didn’t go in. Yeah.

Su Cho: That’s so interesting. I feel like now my version of your hometown is rodeo and God.

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: And these like, weird high schools teachers, you know?

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah, I think that’s right. The other thing I was thinking about was, when we had high school dances, they made us wear bracelets, and they would cut them off if they saw us grinding with each other.

Su Cho: (LAUGHS) Wait, wait, stop!

Taneum Bambrick: I’m serious.

Su Cho: What kind of bracelets? Can you say—wait, this has to be a story.

Taneum Bambrick: Yes, they would literally make us wear like, I’m trying to remember, this was a long time ago, but it was like plastic-y bracelets that if they caught you grinding, they would just come and like, take scissors and cut them off. And then if you got caught grinding again without a bracelet, they would put you into this, like, shame room. And they would call your parents and make them come get you. And it was so ridiculous. We started hosting our own dances like in barns to get away from it, because we were like, “This is messed up.”

Su Cho: (LAUGHS) That’s a lot of coordination.

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah, there’s also just like a general, I think—and I don’t want to say this is like a unique experience—but I feel like just a general shame around sexuality vibe of the whole town. Yeah.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Su Cho: Wow. I did not see that story coming. That’s for sure. So these poems in the November issue of Poetry will be a part of your next book. And I really liked how you said you were resisting writing a breakup book, but you ended up writing a breakup book. Or you’re in the process of writing one. Could you tell me more about why you didn’t want to write a breakup book?

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah. I think when I started writing poetry at, you know, really early in high school, college poetry, that was all I knew how to write about, that was all I had access to in terms of just like, lived experiences that I could imagine taking shape on the page. And so, everything I’ve done, since college, everything I’ve done in publishing, or my published work has all been kind of me trying not to write about intimacy, in some ways, me trying not to write about partnership. And so my first book, it’s mostly about like, a lot of things, but it’s focused on picking up garbage, which was a job that I had in college. And I accessed a lot of things like love and tenderness and friendship and loss and isolation through that sort of metaphor of trash. But then, in my second book, is looking a lot at intimacy through, through other experiences as well, like queer erasure, being in a rural space that is not like one’s own space, and chronic illness. And so, sort of how all of those things complicate romantic relationships. But this year, I was just going through this big life shift, I think, probably touching on what you asked about earlier, the vulnerability in them kind of just like knocked me out of my practice. And not in a bad way, in an interesting way. But yeah, the only poems I’ve been able to write have been really centered on the vulnerable parts of this, like the loudest, scariest parts of those feelings of loss. And I think there’s no, there’s no third thing. There’s no like, shield from it. And I think that’s scary. And so it’s a lot slower, if that makes sense.

Su Cho: Yeah, yeah. That sounds super scary.

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah. (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: So yeah, like I said, there’s no third, like, shield.

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah.

Su Cho: I feel like it’s just you and the words.

Taneum Bambrick: Yes.

Su Cho: I’m getting, I’m getting like a little nervous. (LAUGHS)

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHS) I’m sorry I keep making you nervous.

Su Cho: No! No, this is good. I feel like that’s a testament to your poems, because it was so interesting, I think you said the vulnerability was pushing you out of your practice, but not in a good or bad way. Can you say a little more about that? Like, how did you get to that state of vulnerability that pushed you out like that?

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah. I think that, when you think your life is going in one direction, a big life direction, like, who you are going to spend your life with, or those big things that feel stabilizing and comfortable and sure, when those change, that’s a time when, of course, it’s a time of intense grief. But it’s also a time when you come to see yourself in a way that is really important. And I think that that was what I was going through last year was like a reckoning with habits and patterns in my personal life. And then I was thinking about how I could apply that same thinking to my habits in my writing. And that was terrifying to reckon with, I think, to think about how, you know, maybe the things that I’m obsessed with in real life show up in my work, and how those obsessions relate to patterns that, again, maybe they’re not good, maybe they’re not bad, but they need to be examined.

Su Cho: Hm.

Taneum Bambrick: And I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how a lot of the times when I’m writing a book, I just suddenly realize I’m writing it. And there’s not a lot of intention behind necessarily the focus, because I think it’s really hard to be like, pre-, what’s the word? To premeditate what you’re going to say in a book of poems.

Su Cho: Yeah.

Taneum Bambrick: But I’ve been studying nonfiction. And I think in nonfiction, you can kind of map things out more. And that has been really bleeding into my poetry practice this year. So I’ve been, rather than writing a bunch of vulnerable poems that are going to draw out this, like, sadness or recovery time, I’m thinking about, like, what kind of book do I actually want to write. And I think these poems will be in that book, but I don’t know for sure. And I have a lot of really silly ideas. I’ve tried to write into other feelings as well, at the same time. It’s a mix of deep, intense work of looking at myself and my tendencies. And then at the same time, this like, really interesting kind of discovery work with nonfiction and thinking about how that can be applied to my poetry practice, too.

Su Cho: Could you give us an like, what’s an example of like, an obsession you’ve had recently, that you felt like just kind of appeared in your work? Or maybe not, you know, or just like an obsession you have lately? Yeah.

Taneum Bambrick: So, I’ve been obsessed my whole life with skunks, and with people who own pet skunks, because it’s just an unnecessarily constant risk. And I don’t understand, like, the impulse. (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: People have skunks as pets?

Taneum Bambrick: Yes,

Su Cho: I didn’t know that. Okay.

Taneum Bambrick: Yes, and a lot of people do, and a lot of them will remove the stink gland that skunks have, but a lot of people won’t. And so they have this, like, low key stressful situation in their home at all times of like, “Is the skunk going to, like, go off if I take the wrong step? Is it going to spray everybody?” You know? And in my last relationship, I shared this obsession with my, with my ex. You know, we talked about skunks and people who own skunks all the time.

Su Cho: Mm.

Taneum Bambrick: And I was thinking about, you know, because writing these poems was making me—it’s cathartic, but it’s also so sad and so difficult to write about such a big loss, I was thinking about, what’s something I could just research and study that makes me happy that I could pair with this, you know? That I want to know more about. I mean, I’m in school, I can spend time thinking about random obscure things. And so I’ve become really obsessed with this festival that happens every year called Skunk Fest, where they say it’s like 100 people who own pet skunks bring them to this convention. And they crown a king and queen skunk of the year.

Su Cho: What!

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHS) And they do it based on, like, the quality of the coat and like, their—just all this random markers of what makes a perfect skunk. But I’m just really interested in that.

Su Cho: Yeah.

Taneum Bambrick: And so I’ve just been really interested in, you know, like, why not use poetry as a way or, you know, hybridity or documentary poetics or like what a lot of people who really inspire me have done, thinking about something that’s tangentially related to what you’re talking about, but that maybe brings you joy.

Su Cho: Yeah, I love the leap. I love the leap from like, obsession to joy to vulnerability and then to just kind of figuring out how to package all that. That’s so interesting. Skunks.

Taneum Bambrick: Yes.

Su Cho: Yeah, so I’d love to learn more about your work in creative nonfiction, because if I’m remembering correctly, I think one of your previous books, you incorporated some creative nonfiction alongside your poetry.

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah.

Su Cho: Is that right?

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah, in both my poetry collections, I have long essays that are like eight, eight or more pages long. And I wrote the essay in my book Vantage, it’s called “Sturgeon.” It’s the only essay I had ever submitted for publication. And it, it received like the Booth Nonfiction Prize, which was this really big deal to me, because I just had never thought of myself as a prose writer at all. And I don’t know, sometimes that validation, all, every professor everywhere would tell you not to put any value on that. But it was very valuable to me at the time. (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: (LAUGHS) Yeah.

Taneum Bambrick: And it just made me think I should pursue it. And then I had been on the job market for three years, I was applying for jobs during COVID as a tenure track professor positions. And I was getting close, but not getting jobs. You know, I had been applying for PhD programs at the same time. And I was in this typical position that I think a lot of poets and writers find themselves in. You know, things worked out where I was like, “Okay, I think my only option is to get a PhD right now, just, hopefully, I’ll get into somewhere.” And then I got into USC, and since I’ve been there, the nonfiction faculty who I’ve worked most closely with is Maggie Nelson. And her courses are so focused on how to braid theory with creative work. So it’s like very critical and creative at the same time. And I think that combination has been what has inspired me to think about how I can use my, like, five years in a program to make something that I would never normally have the time or energy or resources to make. And so, I’ve been thinking a lot about braiding things together that I wouldn’t normally have thought about braiding together. Yeah, I wrote an entire, like, 100 pages of what I thought was a memoir. And then, you know, I got feedback on that draft of a memoir, and people were like, “This is not what you think it is, like, you need to spend more time with this.” And of course, that’s crushing advice to receive. But it’s also pushed me towards this kind of like hybrid work I’m doing now about skunks and relationships. Yeah. (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: Yeah, so those 100 pages of the memoir, what did you braid? Did you braid like skunks with theory? I can’t—what is the sentence I’m saying? (LAUGHS)

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: Did you braid like, skunks and theory and like, your own poetics? Yeah, I’m just so curious.

Taneum Bambrick: There were no, there were no skunks in the memoir that I wrote. And so basically, I had like, maybe two thirds of a memoir, totally unrelated to the skunks. And then I had probably two thirds of a poetry collection, totally unrelated as well. But then I was also doing all this research just for myself, because I was interested in skunks. So what’s happened now is I’ve kind of put those two half-finished projects aside, and I’m working on this new one. And the poems and the essays are kind of finding their way into this new thing that I’m doing. The essay collection that I—I guess it’s like a memoir in essays is what I would call it—I still really believe in a lot of what that’s doing. It was definitely a breakup book. But it was also a book about, you know, and I feel complicated about the word “survivor,” I always have. But it’s also a book about like surviving sexual assault, and you know, how that overlapped with a lot of different things in my life. And I think the problem with the memoir and essays that’s a really beautiful, interesting problem is trying to find the thread that holds all of them together. And I don’t have—I didn’t have that thread. And so that’s, that’s like, the essays are fine on their own, but together, there’s something missing that I still need to figure out. But yeah, it’s really, it’s a really interesting exercise to try to put your voice into a new shape or a new vessel and see what happens. And so I’m trying to just be proud of myself for that work, even if it’s not functioning (LAUGHS) as it is.

Su Cho: Yeah, I feel like our conversation has been so funny. There’s so much humor and delight and joy to all the stories you’ve been sharing. And I would love to listen to hear you read “Drinking for free,” because I felt like there’s a lot of humor there too. And I would love to hear you read it.

Taneum Bambrick: I’m so glad you think there’s humor. (LAUGHS) I will read it.

(READS POEM)

“Drinking for free”

I order a cocktail with a cut of red bell pepper.
Wrestle its ridged length back using my tongue.
The bartender smiles and I smile. He looks younger than me.
When I was twenty-four, I loved selling drinks.
One with woodsmoke. One where you stab the straw
through a thin slice of apple to get at an inch
of sugar and whiskey. Before my fiancé left
he said, Taneum, while I tried to sleep.
At a camp with ten other men, he learned he could never
forgive himself for his past while living with me.
The bartender hands over a drink he calls The Lady Killer
for free. Says I am a relief to talk to.
That most women are bisexual and want to be empowered
so resist his attempts to treat them like queens.
I pull the sprig of rosemary out of the collins glass
and the ice sinks. I ask him if he wants to kill me.
Killing me is the joke of this drink.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

I spent two years at Stanford for the Stegner fellowship, and I had this professor there named Eavan Boland, who passed away while I was there, which was really hard. And I’ve been thinking a lot about her ever since being there. One of the things that she said a lot was that a poem starts where a feeling of a lack of resolution begins. And this poem is like, the most that out of a lot of the poems I’ve written, I think. I kind of was shocked. So I was in my hometown when I heard this. And I was shocked to hear the word “bisexual.” I had never heard anyone use that word there, I realized.

Su Cho: Hm.

Taneum Bambrick: I don’t identify as bisexual, I identify as queer. But it was also really interesting, because it felt like his statement, like, did actually summarize who I am. (LAUGHS) Like, it was actually like, not wrong. But it was just like, the way that it was presented was very wrong, you know? And so the poem enacts how that interrupted my grief about the loss of this person who I was engaged to. I don’t know if this is there in the poem, but it’s funny to me that I was ever engaged to someone because I’ve always been like, “I will never get married. Marriage, like what is marriage?” You know? The irony and hypocrisy of like, the situation I was even in in the first place felt highlighted by this other experience, where I felt like I was just being told who I was by a stranger. And so the humor is, like, directed at myself to me. But you know, like, when people read the poem, they’re like, “Oh, like, it’s critiquing this man.” But it’s not, I’m not trying to critique this one person, I’m trying to think about, actually, how he taught me something. And also how, you know, systems like—I always accept free drinks, always. And I’m learning not to do that, because of the recent experience I had. But like, I always accept loaded things when they will take work off of me, or like when they will take cost away from me. Like, when they will make things easier for me a lot of times I say yes. And that’s like, the idea of getting something for free from a like, cis man, like that feeling, or really any stranger, it’s like, always a loaded, free thing, you know? Yeah, and it’s interesting, my workshop told me to cut the last line.

Su Cho: (GASPS)

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah. (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: That was not scripted. (LAUGHS) The last line is my favorite line, so.

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHING) It’s my favorite line too, so I didn’t cut it. But yeah, my workshop was like, not the whole workshop, one person said, “Cut that last line, because it gives away what you’re doing.” I think I just realized I was like, I think I want to give it away. Like I’m just gonna give it away, you know? (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: Yeah, yeah. That’s what makes it funny, I think, too.

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah.

Su Cho: It’s like the speaker is like, unabashed.

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah.

Su Cho: Just like, no, this is what it is. And this is what’s funny.

Taneum Bambrick: Yeah, this is what’s funny to me. And I also like, I’ve never talked about jokes in poems really like that. And I was interested in that. I was watching a lot of like, you know, random standup comedy things in LA and being like, I like this. And I had just read Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings.

Su Cho: Oh yeah.

Taneum Bambrick: I was like, I was just thinking, you know, I was thinking a lot about like, comedians and jokes. And so I don’t know, I tried. (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: (LAUGHS)I look forward to going to one of your readings and just like how Cathy Park Hong writes, it just turns into a really good standup routine.

Taneum Bambrick: (LAUGHS)

Su Cho: Yeah.

Taneum Bambrick: This is my dream/goal for the rest of my life now.

Su Cho: Yeah. (LAUGHS)

Taneum Bambrick: To do a reading and you’re there, and I make it into standup.

Su Cho: Yeah, that’d be amazing. Oh my gosh. Well, thank you so much, Taneum, for joining me today. I really had a lot of great laughs, and I have a lot to think about.

Taneum Bambrick: Yes, Su, thank you so much for having me here. I’m such a fan of yours. And it’s been so fun to laugh with you about my life.

Taneum Bambrick and Su Cho: (LAUGH IN UNISION)

Taneum Bambrick: And poetry and all these things in general. So, thank you so much for your thoughtful questions.

Su Cho: Intimacy, I feel like laughing is intimacy.

Taneum Bambrick: Yes.

Su Cho: So that was fun!

Taneum Bambrick: Exactly. (LAUGHS)

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Su Cho: A big thanks to Taenum Bambrick. Taenum is the author of Intimacies, Received and Vantage, both published by Copper Canyon Press. You can read three of their poems in the November 2022 issue of Poetry, in print and online. This show is produced by Rachel James. The music in this episode came from Resavoir, Alabaster DePlume, Angel Bat Dawid, John McCowen, Rob Mazurek, and Irreversible Entanglements. Okay, that’s it. Until next time, be well, stay safe, and thanks for listening.

(MUSIC PLAYS AND FADES OUT)