I have noticed the name t. kilgore splake appear and resonate with its strange and rough-sounding originality in many of the little magazines of the small press across America since the early 90s. Thirty years later, the name continues to contribute raw, plain-language poetry that bites at your skin, down to your bone, and stark black-and-white minimalistic photography that documents the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and its history, towns, and wilderness. Several years ago, Splake and I began corresponding, sharing our books ...
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I have noticed the name t. kilgore splake appear and resonate with its strange and rough-sounding originality in many of the little magazines of the small press across America since the early 90s. Thirty years later, the name continues to contribute raw, plain-language poetry that bites at your skin, down to your bone, and stark black-and-white minimalistic photography that documents the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and its history, towns, and wilderness. Several years ago, Splake and I began corresponding, sharing our books with each other, and publishing together. As I gradually got to sense the man behind the name not only was a friendship born, but a realization that I had never come across an interview with him, and that this elder American outsider poet was the last of a dying breed who lived what they wrote day in and day out, while removed from the mainstream among the remoteness of the Upper Peninsula. Splake is akin to Lorine Niedecker of Wisconsin's lakes and woods and her austere and vivid poetry. Both poets persevered without receiving immediate critical attention from their own geographic and cultural isolation. With this, I decided a decent interview would not only give respect to Splake, but also illuminate the man behind the name, and further, would extend his work and journey to the next generation. So, I enlisted the help of the poet richard lopez and together we bring you "The Last of the Yooper Poets." - Jonathan Hayes
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