Meet the Poets: Emily A. Taylor

Emily A. Taylor talks to us about her two Issue Three poems, the poems and poets she loves, and how she first got into poetry

What can you tell us about your Issue Three poems?

Grocery shopping with a woman from Hinge very much does what it says on the tin. It was a while ago, maybe a year? I’d gone on a few dates with someone I’d met at Goldie Saloon—I took artistic liberty with the “from Hinge” based on a conversation we’d had. But yeah, we decided to have a chill evening in, went to Tesco and got some girl dinner, as described. Sadly, it didn’t pan out. I’m dating-app sober but I often think it might be worth it for the material.

I quite like is a really lovely memory of my friend John and I. My poetry stanza organised our own retreat in Avignon with Rachel Long, with the plan being for a couple of people to pair off and cook dinner for the whole group each evening.

John and I made many mediocre things, but started with devilled eggs as a little appetiser. I set him the task of making sure the eggs were hard boiled. He tried to take them off the hob 5 minutes early and I was like, “they’re not done,” and he was like “they are,” and I was like “just to be clear, this is the hill you want to die on?” and he was like “yes.” The eggs were not done.

Tomatoes were also sliced.

What poets and poems are you in dialogue with?

There are so many household name poets I love—Frank O’Hara (all of it, but especially To the Harbormaster, which Google tells me I visit often), Tomas Tranströmer (The Couple and After Someone’s Death), Emily Berry (Love Bird and Dream of a Dog¹)—to name a few.

But I take just as much from my friends and contemporaries as I do established writers. Rich Ware writes about the contemporary queer experience with such reverence and empathy, Tangerine is a great example of this, as is Swallows, which I’m not sure has been published yet. (Rich, if you’re reading this, please advise).

John Wildsmith’s (soft boiled egg, see above) poems are almost orienting for me. I read them, and I remember what I’m doing it for. His poem Going Church is one of my favourite poems.

Though I wish he’d stop editing the first stanza.

Phoebe Gilmore’s remind me of whipped cream—they’re so light and airy on the surface but are deceptively heavy and could probably clog your arteries (in the best way). The best example of this is her as-of-yet released meme series which is so soft, really incredible..

Carol Peace (who is also an established sculptor) is so unashamedly herself in everything she does, especially in how she writes. She reminds me to not take myself so seriously. “I know it’s pretty cliché, but maybe I can get away with it because it’s me (laughing emoji).” She self published her own, stunning, collection, a testament to her “fuck it, I’ll do it myself” attitude.

Stevie Green has this poem about his school friend kicking a bin in frustration that’s hilarious, and tender and nostalgic. And he just randomly dashed one off the other day, the sugarbabes are back. He reminds me of Frank O’Hara like that. He writes memory like I wish I could.

I don’t know him personally, but I also loved Tom Bailey’s pamphlet, Please Do Not Touch or Feed the Horses, the lines “It’s so sad when someone dies. They take all of their thoughts with them.” is, in my opinion, the perfect couplet.

What drew you to writing poetry?

Ben Lerner, no contest. I picked up No Art, which includes his pamphlet The Lichtberg Figures, by chance in Waterstones in November 2023. I was immediately, completely obsessed. I think I sent everyone I knew the first poem in the pamphlet, beginning the dark collects our empties. The last line is a killer.

Cut to a month or so later, I had too much prosecco on Boxing Day and signed up to the beginner Faber poetry course, which started three weeks later, with Richard Scott and Rachel Long. It was a Christmas gift to myself, having written maybe 3 ½ “poems” in the month preceding. Everything stemmed from those 12 weeks. Kind of wild to think about.

What’s your first poetry memory?

Sitting in that Faber course on the first day, Richard (Scott) had everyone describe their favourite colour as an intro. Rich (Ware) talked about his burnt orange couch, another girl her bottle-green nail polish. I think I prattled on about some abandoned tattoo concept with a marigold.

What’s on your bedside table? What books, trinkets…?

Right now, Meditations in an Emergency by Frank O’Hara (emotional support copy), Goodlord by Ella Frears², and a Folio Society print edition of Shakespeare’s Sonnets. My dad’s panama hat, a photo of us at the zoo when I was a kid, La Roche-Posay sunblock, mascara, and two cans of black beans I picked up from the off license, took out of my tote and have yet to take to the kitchen.

What’s your favourite text about the sea? Or beaches?

To the Harbormaster, Frank O’Hara. Only because I, too, am always tying up and then deciding to depart.

1. Also a favourite of Issue Three contributor Phoebe Gilmore.

2. Issue Three contributor Alison Tanik is also currently reading Goodlord: it seems it’s popular with our contributors.