A Conversation with Logen Cure
Welcome to Midland. Cover design by Justin Childress. Cover art by Ashley Shea Henderson.
I met poet Logen Cure at a reading in her home state of Texas several years ago, and I’ve been closely following her writing ever since. A queer poet and educator, Logen curates Inner Moonlight, the monthly podcast reading series for The Wild Detectives in Dallas. She's an editor for Voicemail Poems. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro.
This month, we feature a conversation with Logen and feature five poems from her debut full-length poetry collection, Welcome to Midland (Deep Vellum Publishing, 2021) which was shortlisted for the Reading the West Book Awards. — CMG
1. Thanks so much for joining us for a chat here at Does It Have Pockets. First question: dogs, cats, or ?
Both! I have a gorgeous cat, a cattle dog mutt, and a corgi. They bring me so much joy! I love animals generally, though, as evidenced by all the creatures in my book.
2. Strangest/favorite place you’ve given a reading?
Years ago, I gave a reading at an art festival in Fort Worth—the sort of event where they close several blocks of street for booths. I was asked to read in the middle of the afternoon, standing just outside the booth for a local literary organization. There was no stage or microphone. It was very bizarre to just start loudly reading poems as people teemed by. But then people stopped. An audience formed and foot traffic diverted around all the folks listening to me. It was quite an experience.
3. What are you reading or watching or listening to these days?
The most recent book I read is Black Chameleon by Deborah D.E.E.P. Mouton. It’s a memoir written by a poet, so it contains stories from life, but it’s also mythic and fantastical. I love books that challenge definitions of genre. I had the privilege of hosting a conversation with Mouton at the Deep Vellum bookstore when she came through Dallas on her book tour. Our conversation was super inspiring and I’m so glad I got that opportunity.
4. Welcome to Midland came out smack in the middle of the pandemic.
A. How did that affect the book?
Yes, so the book was acquired by Deep Vellum in February 2020, and released in July 2021. Deep Vellum threw me an in-person book launch at the Wild Detectives, a bookstore/bar venue in Dallas with a beautiful outdoor space that makes celebrating safer. That was fortunate, definitely. But I had ambitions to do a tour of readings all over Texas, and I will admit I’m sad that couldn’t happen. It was harder, generally, to connect with people and raise awareness than it might have been otherwise. I had to reimagine what it meant to have a debut book. I’ve been really lucky, though, and I’ve found my way.
B. How did it affect your writing?
Honestly, I haven’t done much poetry writing since the book was acquired. The book was a long time coming (like a decade) and I am still resetting after its release. My creative energy also goes toward my monthly poetry reading series, Inner Moonlight. We recently celebrated the 5th anniversary of the show! For two years before the pandemic, it was an in-person reading at the Wild Detectives. When the pandemic started, the show was on hiatus for several months, then I brought it back as an interview-style podcast. Inner Moonlight was solely a podcast for about a year, then we returned to the Wild Detectives, this time outdoors. Now I record the live readings and release them as podcast episodes, so it’s the best of both formats. Sometimes I write book reviews for authors I feature in the series, and that’s been lovely. It’s been positive for me to turn my creative energy toward community endeavors, especially during a very isolating time.
C. What coping strategies were most helpful?
Honestly, making a podcast is the best thing I could have done. It gave me the chance to connect with writers and readers all over the world. The podcast got a shoutout from Texas Monthly, which was very cool. I think the buzz from the show helped the book, too, because it led people to discover my other work.
5. We’ve talked before about the power of confessional poetry when done correctly. Part of what I love about your writing is that you make space for the reader even though these scenes are intensely, sometimes brutally, personal. Still, Welcome to Midland has an almost novel-ish sort of plot that winds through these poems. Was that intentional or organizational or something else entirely?
Thank you for the kind words! Yes, it’s accurate to describe the book as a novel in verse. I didn’t set out with that intention from the first poems I wrote for the project. I noticed the potential for a plot arc fairly early on, however, and became intentional about it. The poems are also about storytelling in a lot of ways—gossip, myth, history—so it made sense for the book itself to tell a story. I didn’t anticipate the nature and history threads at the outset either, but while reading everything I could find about Midland, I was inspired to try a few poems in that vein. They turned out alright so I wrote more. For me, it’s always some intention and some exploration.
6. The illustrations are a big part of the magic of the book. How was the process of working with the illustrator? Did you pick certain subjects together or did she read and draw what kindled her imagination?
Thank you! I’m so happy that illustrations add magic for you. The idea of illustrations didn’t occur to me until around the time the book was acquired. I’d admired countless illustrations throughout my research for the book–scientific drawings, historical photographs, guidebook images–and I asked Deep Vellum if they were open to including art. I was stoked they were on board! I requested the subjects plus grayscale realism with hand lettered labels. They’re all India ink paintings. The illustrator is a fellow West Texan. She read the poems and we worked together to figure out what each piece should look like. West Texas is a weird place, and I think a lot of folks have probably never seen some of the subjects depicted, like the tarantula hawk wasp or the horned lizard. The art captures that bizarre beauty so well and I am pleased with the result.
7. Your relationship with Texas is a big character in the book. So many of us have complicated feelings about our hometowns (hello, Billings, Montana). How is that relationship evolving in today’s garbage political climate? What makes you hopeful?
I’m glad you asked me this. One of the things writing the book taught me is that I am not obligated to speak to a broad “universal” audience—my work can speak specifically to queer folks with hometowns like mine. Giving myself that permission was vital. Just this past April (National Poetry Month), I was invited to visit Midland/Odessa by the University of Texas at Permian Basin and Pride Center West Texas. I taught a workshop at the university and gave a reading for the Pride Center. Growing up in Midland, I couldn’t have imagined a Pride Center could exist there. It was profoundly heartening to talk with queer folks living there now. I was touched to hear that people connected with my work and encouraged to hear their commitment to fighting the good fight. You’re right that the political climate is garbage, but frankly, the political climate is always garbage for queer people. It’s also true that time and again, we find hope in each other, and I’m so glad the book led me to make that trip and meet those beautiful people.
8. What question do you wish someone would ask about your work?
Thank you for asking this! I ask writers this question in interviews, too, and it can be tough to answer. No one ever asks me how I named the characters in the book, so I’m going to tell you. I’m a poet and had very little experience naming characters. Once I leaned into creating a novel-like arc, I decided character names would help build the narrative across poems. The book contains some pretty scathing critique of a certain kind of Christianity, so I took the names from biblical characters. I narrowed down a list of names that would sound natural enough for people in my generation, then contacted a former undergrad mentor (who’d become a priest) for consultation in matching them to the characters in the book. The character name Lily is a diminutive of Lilith, who may or may not be mentioned in the Bible, but is certainly prevalent across other kinds of storytelling.
9. How can readers find out more & support your work?
My author website is www.logencure.com and you can find Inner Moonlight on Spotify, Apple podcasts, and most podcast platforms!
Illustration by Ashley Shea Henderson.
Five poems from Welcome to Midland by Logen Cure
Lucifer at the Tea Party
My mother will tell you about reading the invitation to me—
Hannah Miller’s 4th birthday, a dress-up party—
the way I said, Oh good, I’ll wear my devil costume,
how she explained that’s not at all what they meant.
Think tea party. Think fancy.
Oh, I said. Then I’m not going.
When Hannah’s mother asked me at preschool pickup
if I was planning to attend,
my mother explained the misunderstanding
after I said, Nope.
Oh, Hannah’s mother said,
just bring her in whatever she wants to wear.
I don’t believe I remember this.
Isn’t it strange? The way story blurs
with memory, the sweet mythology
we make of ourselves.
Ask my mother and she will show you the photo:
little girls clad in lace, sashes, tiny gloves,
sitting in a circle, heads bent
as Hannah opens a gift,
and me, kneeling in the background,
dark eyes looking square at the camera,
my horns crooked, the hellfire on my red, red cape
just visible at the edge of the frame.
Elementary
My fourth grade teacher told me
she dreamt I belonged to her:
together we traveled by boat.
I imagined the unending sea,
my young teacher squinting in sunlight,
a life with another mother.
The day I had to explain
why I chased Rebekah Jones across the blacktop,
punched her in the back so hard she fell
and bloodied her skinny knees,
I really thought I was in trouble.
You know that thing boys have
that girls don’t? I said.
My teacher nodded.
She said I have one of those.
Before I could say sorry,
my teacher hugged me;
her sea-green eyes brimmed with tears.
I stood stunned through Rebekah’s stiff apology.
Back at our desks,
she picked at the bandages on her knees;
I drew a series of boats.
Misdirection
The first time I broke
a disposable razor, I accidentally
slashed my thumb.
I did not cry out.
I freed the single, flimsy blade.
My intentional work
came out neater, bled less.
I was twelve and knew my body
was haunted. I slid the blade
between dictionary pages,
returned the volume to my bookshelf.
This is how I learned to hide in the open.
My inner thighs were so
easily unseen,
even in the locker room,
in department store fitting rooms with my mother.
I learned to create distractions,
to stand at the perfect angle.
I knew people cannot see
what they are not looking for.
Warbirds
Ninth grade field trip, Commemorative Air Force:
we filed through the collection of WWII nose art,
massive painted pinup girls on jagged-edge metal,
like torn pages of a dirty magazine.
Boys behind me shoved and snickered,
called each other fag.
I squinted up at cartoonish women,
the perfect Os of their mouths,
heart-shaped bottoms, bare breasts.
They were more bizarre than alluring,
accompanied by slogans for sex or death like
Target for Tonight or
Just Once More.
In the next room, we saw
replicas of Fat Man and Little Boy suspended,
mid-drop, surrounded by photos of mushroom clouds.
How strange, I thought, to go into battle this way,
such sweet phrases for devastation.
Laws
1. A body at rest tends to stay at rest; a body in motion tends to stay in motion.
My sigh steamed in the frigid morning;
the sky was the same color as the parking lot
and I had a physics test to study for.
I liked school better this early.
The quiet gave way to my footfalls,
the equations I murmured like psalms.
The library waited for me.
2. Acceleration is proportional to the magnitude of the imposed force.
I saw the truck take the corner,
rattle down the street as I stepped
onto the crosswalk. It slowed as it approached.
I regarded the driver, a blond boy
I’d known since middle school.
I was square in front of his hood ornament
when his eyes narrowed
and I knew—
Dyke! he yelled over the engine’s sudden roar
as the truck surged forward—
I dodged, barely—
my physics book slapped pavement,
fluttered open.
3. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
His rumbling laughter receded.
I picked up my book.
I found the library empty.
