Ask the Author: Amorak Huey

Amorak Huey four poems in the March issue cover a lot of ground as does our conversation about obituaries, Little Red Riding Hood and kissing in a small town.

1. How would one write a poem about black metal?

For me, “metal poems” are synonymous with “high school poems.” Although I was more of a hair band guy than a black metal guy. I used to always feel the need to apologize for having liked what, honestly, was some pretty crappy music. But now, heck with it. I cranked up Whitesnake and Warrant and Winger while I cruised around in my itty-bitty Honda Civic, and how can you not see the beauty in that?

I’ve been writing a lot of poems about music lately — mostly blues, but also some pieces about those hair bands. You don’t see enough Poison and Motley Crue in poetry. Or maybe you do. It’s about capturing the state of mind that music creates in the listener. Music helps us figure out who we really are. Like poetry. Right?

2. Have you already written your obituary? What would it be like?

I have not written my obituary, although I have frequently compiled ridiculous mental lists of the achievements that I hope will appear in it. I guess it might be time to give up on “World Series MVP” and all those “Youngest person ever to …” items. With the obit poem that’s in PANK, I was thinking about the things that matter in our lives that would never appear in real obits. Also, obituaries are not untrue, but they tell only one kind of truth about us. In this poem, I was trying to explore some of the other kinds of truth.

David Kirby has a brilliant short poem called “The Death of Fred Snodgrass” (it’s online here (http://www.incendiarylit.com/2008/06/28/for-your-enjoyment-david-kirbys-the-death-of-fred-snodgrass/) that has long colored the way I think about obituaries. What is the thing that matters most about you, that makes the first sentence of your obit? How much can you control it?

3. How would Little Red Riding Hood testify on her behalf?

She would blame her mother and grandmother for “saving her” from the wolf. Parents spend all their time trying to protect their children (I’m a parent, so I know this to be true), while children spend their time trying to prove they need no such protection.

4. What’s the difference between kissing in a small town and kissing in a large town? Does the pollution taste different?

Kissing is escaping. People in small towns are escaping something different than people in cities. But we all spend a lot of time trying to get away from our own circumstances, especially when we’re young. At least I did, and I console myself by assuming the experience is universal.

In the place where I grew up, the pollution came from the chicken processing plant outside of town and from the exhaust pipes of Trans Ams and Firebirds and Mustangs driven by boys who kissed a lot more girls than I did. It came from the fried pie company where my mother worked for a while. It came from the fire-extinguisher factory on Highway 11 and the junior high cafeteria and hair spray and kudzu blossoms and the Cahaba River. But mostly the air was clean and tasted like daffodils in February.

5. Is newspaper journalism becoming extinct? If so, how would you save it?

Newspapers — as in the print product that lands on your doorstep every day — surely cannot last. I can’t remember where I read this line, but someone wrote that the days are gone when driving the news around in trucks was the best way to deliver it. But we, as a society, still desperately need the journalism that fills the pages of those papers. Someone still needs to be the watchdog, the voice for the voiceless, the credible source of information — and to keep a historical record for our communities.

I could talk about this for a long time. I tell students who are interested in becoming journalists that they are essential more than ever — we need passionate, dedicated, talented writers who want to chronicle the way we live, who aren’t afraid to speak truth to power. Given the state of the newspaper business, it’s not something you should go into for the money. Not that it ever really was, but it’s surely less so now than it was even a few years ago. Instead, it’s a career you should choose if you like the work and if you believe there’s a need. No matter what happens to the flawed business model of the corporate newspaper, journalism will be saved because our society doesn’t work without it.