Dani Spinosa : on A Mean, Mean Thirst

 

 

 

“Well a person can work up a mean mean thirst
after a hard day of nothin' much at all”
           -        The Replacements, “Here Comes a Regular”

 

I often think about how what we as readers and scholars see as movements in literary history are, so often, just writers writing to/for/about/with their friends. I often think about literature through community. Most of the work I do is about connection and the communal. I do not, ever, want my writing to be a solitary act. My dissertation was written as a blog and I incorporated my friends’ comments as footnotes. My first collection of poetry, OO: Typewriter Poems, is titled after all the poets who I read and was influenced by, several of whom I count as friends. My press, Gap Riot, is run with/alongside my best friend. Today I sent a friend a copy of my latest manuscript. It was in response to an email of hers where she sent me her latest revision of her novel. Poets are my friends. I am constantly reading and writing back to my friends.

When my friend Kate Siklosi launched her beautiful book, Selvage, she asked me to read at her launch. I read a poem called “we, out here.” that I wrote specifically for the event. It’s about friendship, really, and the idea that we have to do our work in consultation and communion and community support. Then when my friend Eric Schmaltz asked me to read for the launch of his incredible Borderblur Poetics, a book about friends and writing and community in the avant-garde literary arts, I wrote him “OO! And I Luv the Valley,” a poem about Stardew Valley, which is, at its heart, a game about friends. Oh, also, the title is a Xiu Xiu reference. When my friend Andy Weaver launched his amazing new book, The Loom, he asked me to read and I wrote him “sequence dress,” a poem titled after a ridiculous Roxxxy Andrews flub and written in the style of Weaver’s above/ground chapbook, Concatenations. And, when my friend Stephen Cain was set to publish his truly excellent new collection, Walking & Stealing, he asked me to be his editor, and I wrote him “Torn Ontology Part Two,” a retelling of the birthday poem I wrote for his birthday collection that is made up almost entirely of music references he better get, or else. The first one is Minutemen, but that’s all I’ll give him. When I hold these four poems together in one place I feel very full.

You can see it right there in the epigraph; I called this chapbook A Mean, Mean Thirst after the first line of the Replacements song “Here Comes a Regular” off the truly incredible album, Tim. Paul Westerberg wrote the song about the C. C. Club in Minneapolis where the band used to drink. I used this for the chapbooks title because we, uh, we drink a lot together. There’s evidence of that in the poem. And because it reminds us that we’re getting together to drink again soon. And that even though we get pretty far away sometimes there’s always this thirst of the common, for friendship, for community, and for many several choice beverages, that will bring us together. Plus I’m not actually sure if Stephen and I have talked about the Replacements yet so it’s a good reminder that we probably should.

 

 

 

 

Dani Spinosa is a poet of digital and print media. She is sometimes a professor, sometimes a web developer, and all the time a co-founding editor of the feminist micropress Gap Riot. She has published several chapbooks of poetry, several more peer-reviewed journal articles on poetry, one long scholarly book, and one pink poetry book. She lives in beautiful Wasaga Beach, Ontario.

Poet Questionnaire #3: Gap Riot Press’s Kate Siklosi and Dani Spinosa answering Stan Rogal

 

 

 

To be honest, I don't know that many writers these days, on a personal level. During the 1990’s there was a wild group I hung out with, partied with, put on events with, but this group has (sadly) long since dispersed. I thought it might be worthwhile to re-create some of that old-time camaraderie and "the interview" format seemed a nice, relaxed entry. I also wanted to interview writers who contributed to the literary community in broader ways, not only as writers, but as publishers, editors, event organizers, and such. I was only familiar with the Gap Riot team of Kate and Dani through their website, plus seeing their work in various magazines or chapbooks, and I was impressed by their energy and politics around poetry. That said, I’m glad I approached them as their responses were not only informative, intelligent and enlightening, but heartening and fun as well. I hope everyone who reads this feels the same. The pair (and Gap Riot) are worth checking out.

1. Will the real Gap Riot Press collective please stand up! Meaning, Kate and Dani, please give our readers some history and an overview of what the press is, what it does, and why it does it.

The short-ish answer to the Gap Riot history is that we always talked about making a small press together, but we never really put in the work until the late, great, and very very missed Priscila Uppal wanted to print a chapbook of poems for the production of her play, What Linda Said, and we did that and an incredible first season of books and then we just … kept making books. We’re finally back at it after a long hiatus where Kate made a sweet little human and Dani moved to a sweet little house and it feels really good to be getting into the swing of making books again.

What do we do? We just make some books. Poetry books, mostly. Print books, mostly. Experimental and/or visual poetry books, often. By feminine and/or feminist and/or underrepresented folks, often. And with fun little embellishments, sometimes. We make as many as we feel like should get made each season.

2. The press is described in your website as “anarchist at heart and communal in nature.” What does this entail? How does it work?

It means, first and foremost, that when we make a book with an author, that we really try to center that author’s voice in the publishing practice. We like bringing dreams to life where possible. It means that we try to edit very little, if at all. It means that if we ever have extra funds (like from our t-shirt or button merch sales), we donate to antioppressive and anticolonial causes. It means that no one person is in charge of anything and we recognize the authorities of all parties involved (authors && editors they/we sometimes bring in && artists they/we sometimes bring in && printers && collaborators && designers && our partners who get roped into helping with things && various animal co-conspirators).

3. The press has an interest in publishing chapbooks. I’m wondering if you see the form as somehow clandestine, even non-legitimate, being that it exists outside the realm of most mainstream publishers? But then, I tend toward the (melo)dramatic. My personal bent aside, what is the appeal to you? 

Heck, we’re nothing if not melodramatic ourselves. And we definitely think there is something non-legitimate about small press chapbook publishing. Or maybe better, something about small press chapbook publication that helps us critique and question what it means to legitimately publish. ‘Round here, we’re for radical legitimacy.

4. As well as organizing and coordinating a micro press, the two of you are also practicing and published poets. What impact (if any) do these criteria — being anarchist and communal — have on you and your own personal poetic endeavours?

Neat question. We definitely work in our own writings to do most of the same things we do in our publishing: push boundaries of publishing and meaning making, incorporate feminist and communal practices, look for distributed agency and its potentials, encourage a radical legitimacy in publishing practices. We’re also plunderers in our work; we steal from existing texts and repurpose in order to critically re-examine.

5. What keeps you writing/publishing poetry given there are fewer poetry publishers and even fewer poetry books being sold? Or am I wrong in this evaluation?

Some days it does feel like poetry is sinking into the background, for sure. But other days—actually probably most days—it feels like we are in the middle of a vibrant explosion of small press possibilities. The community is small (which is good in some ways and bad in some ways and just the way it is), but it gets bigger and we can make it bigger and bigger by recognizing its connection to various artistic and linguistic practices across disciplines and across mediums. And when we do that, there’s lots of activity and lots of really awesome things happen across poetries of all kinds, especially in Canada. The wider poetry industry is probably more inclusive than it ever has been (there are still always problems of access and we need to keep considering and pushing those) and as we get older and older we also get more and more impressed with the ways that the young people interested in poetry and literary communities are doing really freakin’ cool stuff in really freakin’ cool ways and it makes us feel inspired and encouraged to keep making cool stuff.

And also, we just really like helping great writers put great work out into the world in cool ways. That is gratifying work, period.

6. What’s the biggest downside of being a poet (or poetry advocate) in Canada? Biggest upside?

Downside: we spend all our money on books.

Upside: we spend all our money on books!

7. Poets deal in words. To each of you, what is your favourite word? What about another word that maybe strikes your funny bone or makes you feel uneasy/awkward for no particular reason when you say it? Why?

Dani: Right now I like the word “ember”. I like how it evokes warmth and just the suggestion of a previous fire. Plus, it bested me in the Wordle a little while ago and it’s been on my mind ever since.

Kate: I would say “shakshuka” because it is 1. Delicious, and 2. Fun to say.

8. Do you feel that poetry has the power to end war, hunger, discrimination and environmental destruction in the world?

Poetry has power, but no one thing can end these issues. Love in all its many forms would be the biggest contributing factor. And poets deal in love probably as often as they deal in words.

9. Do you have any advice for anyone who’d like to be(come) a poet?

Honestly, just do the thing. You already are a poet. So, just keep doing the thing.

10.  Add any additional comments of your own choosing. Manifestos included.

As of the end of 2023, Gap Riot is no longer making manifestos. We are officially manifestoed-out.

11.  What question is it that you’ve always wished an interviewer would ask, and hasn’t?

What music do we listen to when we make our books? We like to listen while we work like good little elves. Most often, I would say we’re listening to Nina Simone when we’re chill and Whitney Houston when we need to pick up the pace. “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” is the greatest stitching-chapbooks-banger of all time.

 

 

 

 

 

Gap Riot Press is a neat little wimmin-run feminist press that publishes experimental, visual, innovative, and genre-blurring work by primarily Canadian poets that push the limits of poetry. Gap Riot is run in conversation and collaboration. Gap Riot believes in big ideas and small runs, in inexpensive chapbooks with hand-made touches, in royalty payments and spreading the wealth, in the meaningful merger of generosity and accountability. Gap Riot loves the weird and the wonderful and takes quite a bit of pleasure in poetry.

Kate Siklosi’s work includes Selvage (Invisible 2023), leavings (Timglaset 2021), and six chapbooks of poetry. Her critical and creative work has also been featured across North America, Europe, and the UK. She is also the curator of the Small Press Map of Canada.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dani Spinosa (she/herses) is a poet of digital and print media, a software engineer, and an out-of-season beach bum. She has published several chapbooks of poetry, several more peer-reviewed journal articles on poetry, one long scholarly book, and one pink poetry book.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stan Rogal lives and writes in Toronto, for no real explainable reason he can imagine. His writings have cropped up in numerous literary magazines and anthologies over the years. The author of several books, plus a handful of chapbooks. An autodidactic intellectual classicist [reformed]. Speaks semi-fluent English and controversial French. Personal Confessor, Truth Teller, and Psychic Investigator: no job too small; cheap rates.