I chose to start this collection with your poem, “In Spite of Them,” which ends with the line “we’ll make some magic out of this.” Tell me, what do you consider magical about the world? What is magic to you? And is poetry a way to transcend the mundane … a way of taking something bland or normal and making it exceptional?

The fact of life itself is magical, I suppose. To wake each day to find that you exist, whatever that may mean, exactly, is a pretty surreal experience. But when I think of magic in the everyday sense I guess I am thinking of all the little things that help you rise above the mundane of the day to day world and bring you to another plane. It's the simple things that do it for me. An honest smile from a stranger. A beer or a glass of wine while listening to music that you love. A good poem. A girl in a springtime dress. Sitting around with someone you love.

And yes, often in my own poetry I tend to take these little moments and dissect them in a way, or try and translate late them into words to share with others. I think poetry and art in general can be used to remind people of all the little moments of beauty that can be easily overlooked.

Talk a little about your writing process. Where do you find your poems? Do you search for them, or do they simply come to you? Is there a certain bar, a certain street corner in SF that seems to deliver consistent inspiration? Do you write in a notebook or on a typewriter/computer?

My writing process has gone through some changes over the last few years. While I used to start off with an idea or an experience I wanted to put down on the page, these days I tend to walk around the city and jot down images as I see them, and figure out what they mean to me later on. I'll take my notebook and walk around, have a drink here and there, and write down whatever strikes me; people, conversations, the color of the sky, random thoughts, whatever.

I tend to go to bars in my neighborhood. I live on the edge of the Tenderloin here in San Francisco. A lot always going on...insanity, homelessness, alcoholism, drug addition, prostitution and the like. My last book with sunnyoutside was mostly poems born of the Tenderloin, and I think much of my work has become a bit darker having lived here for a little while. I'll wander over to North Beach from time to time as well. A lot of literary history there, with City Lights and the beats and whatnot. Now mostly just tourists, but still some decent bars and interesting folk from time to time. Perhaps I'll pull a Jeffers someday and move to Big Sur and write about the trees and the ocean and the hawks. It would be a bit more relaxing, I think.

Eventually, I'll transfer stuff from my notebook to my computer and see what works together, and if there's any poems waiting to be born from any of it.. I think my newer poems are often less narrative and more imagistic, if you will. Kind of more like painting.

Once a poem is down on the page, how do you go about revising it? How do you know when a poem is ready to be thrown to the wolves (i.e., editors, readers)?

From time to time they'll come out pretty much done, some of the shorter ones, anyway. Mostly I'll get a draft down and leave it alone for a week or so. And then go back to it from time to time until it feels right. Cut out the superfluous stuff and make the pieces as tight as possible. Make them cohesive, at least in my mind. I just work at them until they feel finished. It's often a gut thing. Like when you know a painting is done. Ending a poem well is very important. The last image is what often stays with you. I have at least a handful of what might be really good poems sitting around on my computer just waiting for a good final line.

Are you conscious of an audience while you write? In other words, when you’re working on a poem, do you consider the possibility that it might find the eyes of someone outside of your own?

Well, most of my finished poems end up somewhere these days, so I guess there is a part of me that assumes someone will be reading them. But I don’t know how much it influences what or how I write. I just put down what seems to have some meaning to me, and hope, if done well, it will hold some kind of meaning for others. I’m never really sure if my work is going to have any kind of significance to anyone but me, but sometimes it seems to, and that is nice.Obviously, since you’re as human as the rest of us (I think), not every poem you’ve written is necessarily “publishable.” Tell me a little about your “unpalatable” poems … the ones you write knowing they’re throwaways or meant for your eyes only.

From time to time I write something and when I come back to it I realize it probably doesn’t hold much value to anyone but me. Might make a decent journal entry, but not much else. I tend not to be very good when I try and write overtly political poems. It just tends to come out sounding forced and obvious. I was trying to write something about the situation in Burma, and it just wasn’t working. Which is the problem I have with most overtly political poetry. It’s just not often very poetic. Like most writers of my generation, I went through a big Bukowski phase some years back and sometimes I’d come up with some really good lines only to later realize they were lifted from a Bukowski poem somewhere. So I did have to trash some poems from time to time for that reason alone.

Bukowski mentioned once that all that interests him is the next poem, the next line. How often do you go back through your catalog of unpublished poems to look for something that might have a nugget of life in it … something you can rework/revise to make it fresh, new, relevant? And how difficult is it for you to spend time revising older work or putting together submissions rather than sitting down to write something brand new?

I go back through my older stuff from time to time and try to find salvageable fragments here and there. Sometimes it helps to get the juices flowing when I’m having trouble getting words down. From time to time some good stuff is born of it, sometimes not. I go through my notebooks and sometimes discover images I’d jotted down, sometimes finding some pretty good stuff I’d totally forgotten about.
Often when I sit down to write I’ll start off with revising some unfinished work, as it tends to help kick start me into writing mode.

Are there any poems in Words for Songs Never Written that you are nostalgic about for one reason or other?

A lot of them, in one way or another, I suppose. Much of the work in the book is what I consider to be my best stuff from the past 10 years or so, and a lot of the pieces were born of people and places that meant a lot to me at the time, and still do. It’s a milestone of sorts for me to have them all collected in a single volume. And of course, there is some stuff in there I am simply and completely tired of. But I ain’t gonna tell you which ones are which.

You got married in 2003. How has being a husband changed your poetry? How has it changed you as a man?

Being married teaches you to be less selfish, among other things. I have had to learn to think about someone other than myself from time to time. Which I suppose is a good thing. I’m not sure exactly how much it has changed my writing. I don’t write so many poems about girls, I guess. Other than my wife, of course. Ha. Though domestic bliss doesn’t exactly make for gripping writing material, so my poems still tend to come from darker places of my experience.

What about your move from Santa Cruz to San Francisco? Has that changed your poetic perspective at all? How has your poetry changed since the move?

San Francisco is a much darker place than Santa Cruz. Santa Cruz is all college kids and hippies and trees and ocean. Pleasant and slow. A nice place to be if you can afford it. Downtown San Francisco is another matter. There is much despair and things move very quickly. Crowds and crowds of people and few smiles. A lot of isolation. To steal a line from Townes Van Zandt, there’s a lot of people just waitin’ round to die. Tons of hipster kids with apparently little humor or soul. everything is irony. There’s a lot of exciting stuff going on as well, obviously, but it’s a hard place to be if you don’t have a lot of money.
San Francisco has definitely influenced my writing, as I tend to feed off of what’s going on around me. I think a lot of my newer stuff is a bit darker, perhaps, and as I mentioned earlier, often more imagistic than narrative. Much of that I think comes from living where I do.

Being a poet in San Francisco, do you feel you are in some way carrying on in the tradition of all the SF poets who came before you? Do you feel any connection to them at all? And has the city itself altered the way you see yourself as a writer?

A lot of writers I admire lived in and wrote about San Francisco. That was certainly part of the appeal of moving here. I am inspired by some of the work of the beats, obviously. I’m a big fan of Richard Brautigan, and many other artists who created here. So, I do feel a part of it from time to time. And I’m a sucker for literary history, and literary places. It’s nice to sit in a bar and hear the bartender talking about the last time they saw Brautigan, or looking out across the street through the window of the apartment where Ginsberg used to live. I’m a sucker for that kind of stuff, actually. I live across the street from the building that Dashiell Hammett lived in when he wrote the Maltese Falcon. I’m a loner by nature, but every once in a while it helps a bit to feel a part of something. I recently got a little note from San Francisco poet A.D. Winans that said something to the effect that he was glad to see another poet was writing about the “soul” of the city. I thought that was very nice. San Francisco is a fascinating place to live in and write about.

Words for Songs Never Written is pretty much a career retrospective. How do you think you have grown, poetically speaking, over the last 10 years? Looking back, what advice would you give to young William?

I’ve tried to consistently hone my craft and find my own voice over the years. It’s an ongoing process, and not always an easy one. I try to maintain my voice while letting my work slowly evolve at its own pace. I don’t want to write the same poem over and over.

I think I’ve slowly learned to leave out what is unnecessary and tighten up my poems so they convey what I’m trying to put across the in the most concise and powerful way as I can manage.

You recently had poems accepted by New York Quarterly. What does it take for a small press poet to earn a wider readership in some of the more well respected publications like NYQ?

Endurance and a bit of luck, I reckon. I think if you are fairly good at what you do and keep at it long enough things will fall into place. Not fame or fortune, perhaps. but your art will find its way to people who have a use for it. David McNamara of sunnyoutside press showed Raymond Hammond of the New York Quarterly one of my books at a book fair in New York, I think. He suggested I send some stuff his way, and I did. The first batch came back, but the second batch stuck. I’m pretty proud to have my work appear in such an influential publication.

We already know so much about William Taylor Jr., the poet … tell us something about Bill Taylor, the man. What was your childhood like? What do you do for a living? Where do you like to throw back a few beers? What’s in your fridge right now? What is your preferred drink? What time do you go to bed at night; what time do you wake up? When was the last time you cried?

The general facts of my existence are rather mundane. But since you asked here’s some random facts. Connect the dots as you will:

I grew up in Bakersfield, California. I was a shy and quiet kid, still am. Was a pretty good student up until my senior year of high school, when I started to get bored with most everything they wanted to teach me. I hated P.E. I read a lot of comic books. Was nervous around my family and most people in general. Still am. I asked to be excused from the dinner table as quickly as possible so I could go back to my room and read my books and listen to my records. Went to college for a few years, took a lot of literature and art classes. Left before I got a degree.

I’ve worked in record and bookstores most of my life, and on top of that I write poetry. That makes me pretty much obsolete in this day and age. So be it. I currently work at a used record store in the Castro district of San Francisco. I DJ at a neighborhood bar once a week.

I like to drink at Specs in North Beach and the Saloon, an old blues bar that’s been around about 100 years or so, also in North Beach. In my own neighborhood I like the Geary St. Bar when Lily the German woman is bartending. My fridge currently contains a large variety of condiments, some lunch meat, a package of Tofu and about 1/3 of a large Green Special Pizza. (pesto, cheese, garlic & veggies). I most often drink good beer and cheap wine. A bit of whiskey now and then, preferably makers mark. When I DJ I tend to drink a pint glass of Stoli Vanilla Vodka and 7up. I tend to go to bed around 1 or 2 a.m. wake up around 9 or 10 in the morning. I’m not sure about the last time I cried.

Tell me about your music collection.

I have a fair sized music collection. Music has always been an important part of my life and a strong influence on my writing. Have maybe about 700 CD’s and 500 vinyl records, at a guess. I’ve started spinning records at a local bar so I buy pretty much everything on vinyl these days if I can, which I prefer to CD’s anyway. I don’t own an ipod. My collection is largely punk and indie stuff from the 70’s on...grew up on the Smiths, Replacements, Joy Division, etc. I still listen to all of that among much else. These days I listen to a lot of good old fashioned songwriters: Dylan, Elliot Smith, Townes Van Zandt, Mark Eitzel. The record collection bug has definitely got a hold of me again. Lately I’ve been looking for Townes Van Zandt’s old stuff on vinyl, which is pretty hard to find unless you wanna pay a shitload for it on ebay which is not much fun at all.

List your five favorite books of poetry and tell me what it was about each of them that influenced you?

e.e cummings Complete Poems.

You can’t really beat him when it comes to modern lyrical poetry. His love poems were just perfect. And he experimented in language in such a playful way. Like any innovator he spawned countless horrible imitators, but he can’t be blamed for that.

Thomas Hardy Complete Poems

Thomas Hardy’s work has been very influential on my own, more than any other writer’s perhaps. I discovered him, I think, my senior year of high school. His subject matter was very brave and modern for his time. He saw human life as ruled by chance, and figured if God existed at all, He probably had little interest in the plight of the human race. Hardy’s work was filled with this wonderfully honest pessimism that really made sense to me and still does.

Burning in Water, Drowning In Flame by Charles Bukowski

I am a big fan of Bukowski’s earlier, more lyrical work. He often wrote about the mundane in a very lyrical and sometimes surreal manner. He wrote like nobody else did at the time. He showed me that there was much poetry to be found in the most ordinary aspects of life.

Most any collection by Robinson Jeffers

I consider Jeffers to be the last great poet of the epic tradition. His long narrative poems were very influenced by classical Greek drama. He captured the natural beauty of the earth like few poets before or after him. He found comfort in the fact that the universe and the great beauty of things will continue long after humankind is gone, and I do as well.

Complete poems of T.S. Eliot.

In my estimation, Eliot was probably the greatest poet writing in English in the 20th century. I can read his best work over and over and never tire of it. There is always something new to discover. He was academic, but never in a boring, stuffy way. Even when I didn’t know exactly what the hell he was going on about, the language he used was mesmerizing. ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’ is probably my favorite poem by anyone, ever.


Now list your five favorite small press chapbooks or journals.

Anthills (small press journal)

A groundbreaking and refreshing combination of great editing and wonderful art design. You know when you get a hold of a copy of Anthills you’re going to be reading some of the best work currently being created in the small press. And each issue is its own original miracle in art design. Top notch. I just wish it happened more often.

Freaky Mumbler’s Manifesto by Christopher Robin

My favorite collection by my favorite poet currently working in the small press. Christopher has led an interesting, non conventional life and writes about it in an honest and powerful fashion. He should be much more well known than he is. He is also creator of Zen Baby, one of the last quality old school “zines”.

Poesy (small press journal)

Brian Morrissey’s Poesy has been going strong for many years now and has done much I think to bring respect to the world of small press and independent poetry. Each issue is always impressively designed and contains a wide variety of voices from across the country.

Lummox Journal (small press journal)

Lummox Journal, was a great zine out of L.A. that featured in depth interviews with the best poets currently creating, as well as quality poetry itself, and did much to give a sense of community to the world of the independent press. I don’t think it exists at the moment, but I think Raindog may be bringing it back sometime in the future, at least as an online presence.

sunnyoutside (small press)

Sunnyoutside started as an online zine, I believe, and now is a press that produces beautiful books by a wide range of writers. Everything they produce is very unique and very good.

What does it mean to be a writer in the small press and to have a New & Selected under your belt?

It’s something I’ve been working towards for quite some time now, and it’s definitely a milestone in my life. It’s a validation, of sorts, and a vain little attempt at immortality, perhaps, but it feels good to create something that will probably be around much longer than I will. People rarely throw books away, especially beautiful ones. Hopefully the book will be floating around for many years to come, from time to time making its way into the hands of someone on who can make some sense of it.

What does the future hold for William Taylor Jr.?

Suffering, slow decay, and death, of course. But in-between all that I hope to continue to create and love life in my own strange way.