1. When you revise, what does your process look like—from first pass to final polish? 

It’s a little simplistic, but I think there are three basic kinds of poems—imagistic, argumentative and narrative. I tend toward some combination of the latter two, so I’m trying to cut to the core and then embellish without overwriting. This poem argues that you haven’t really looked closely enough at a spider web, but if you did it would be remarkable. The trick is to prove it! (What do you expect from an old comp teacher?) I try for what I call the value-added element—a shocking metaphor, an arresting claim, a downright dangerous turn of phrase—anything to alter your perception and make you snap to attention.  

2. What’s on your nightstand right now—anything you’re currently reading (or meaning to start)?  

I’m in a fiction book club, and we’re reading John Dies at the End by Jason Pargin. I’m halfway through The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan about the dust bowl. And I’ve always got a pile of poetry. Currently that includes Peter Gizzi, Lucia Perillo, Jane Kenyon, Galway Kinnell and Olena Kalytiak Davis. 

3. When you sit down to write, what’s your writing process—how do you go from idea to finished draft?   

I write early—by hand in a notebook. Sometimes I think I’m not completely in control of the process. It just depends. Sometimes it’s just a word, a memory, a dream, a story I’ve heard, or something that’s bugging me. A recent effort started with one word—valet. It helps if I can find structure early in the form of a story line or an argument. Otherwise I’m just freewriting to see what develops. I’m not thinking about what people want to hear but what I need to say (or what the poem wants to say). When is it done? Hard to say, but emotional closure is satisfying and when you’ve made your argument or finished your story and everything’s tight and sexy. 

4. Anything else we should know - upcoming book, personal website? 

Recent poems in Ponder, RockPaperPoem and North Dakota Quarterly. Trying to survive this Chicago winter. Waiting for baseball!  

Mark Dunbar lives in Brookfield, Il. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Red Rock Review, Spellbinder, Neologism Poetry Review and the Ekphrastic Review, among others.