Ann Beman interviews Blas Falconer, whose latest poetry collection, Rara Avis, captures in verse what it means to be a father, a son, a strange bird, specifically a man living outside the heteronormative experience, “simultaneously a casualty and a participant in the project of masculinity.”

Q: What incited you to write Rara Avis? Was there a ground zero poem – a poem that launched the trajectory of the collection?
A: I recently responded to a similar question for periodicities: a journal of poetry and poetics: Read here.

Q: Can you elaborate on the dedication? “For you. For the you before you and the one before that.”
A: As I was putting the book together, I noted how often the poems address others: a sibling, a father, a son, a former lover, a husband, the dead. When I finished putting the book together, I wanted to nod to the multiplicity of people in Rara Avis, to those with whom I felt compelled to speak. The emphasis on sequence – “for the you before you” – hopefully suggests the long history of these relationships. I’m thinking now of generations of fathers and sons, of the way lovers have come in and out of our lives. I’m also thinking about readers, specifically those of us who come to poetry for pleasure, solace, understanding, or whatever it is we’re seeking.

Q: How do you feel about the word ‘Americana’? What’s your definition of Americana, and how might Rara Avis fit into or defy that definition?
A: If the museum of Americana reflects a cultural heritage, perhaps Rara Avis makes a little more room for LGBTQ+ families among us. Presenting a nontraditional family is a form of celebration, but here the family isn’t beyond critique. The speaker, shaped by a generation with deeply flawed ideas about gender, parenthood, and authority, must examine himself as well. Poems like “Long Gone” challenge traditional notions of fatherhood, while poems like “Strata” recognize the patience, tenderness, and selflessness within that tradition.

Q: Would you talk about the origin stories for a few of the poems? For example, “Son.”
A: When my son told me that he wanted to live with us forever, I didn’t know what to say. My father was gravely ill and receiving treatment alone in the hospital because of quarantine. As I tried to reconcile these two moments, I recalled a childhood memory when my father carried me carefully from the car into the house after a long drive late at night. The poem ends with an apology to the son because, if all goes as planned, he will outlive me. But it’s also true that my father’s loving gesture left an impression that will last me a lifetime.

Q: “My Son Wants to Know Who His Biological Father Is”
A: This poem was published by the Academy of American Poets’ Poem-a-Day, where I wrote something about its origin. It still rings true: “One day, I was listening to my son’s swim coach and her feedback on his breaststroke – how he couldn’t muscle his way across the pool and how stillness and patience were important components of good technique. To encourage this, she had him count while his head was under the water, and it seemed like good advice for a lot of things, including bearing what troubles you or writing a challenging poem.”

Q: Do your sons read poetry? Do they read your poetry?
A: Neither of my children reads poetry now. However, when one of them was younger, if he was in the mood, he would read poems aloud to me. I’d pick one and ask him to read it repeatedly, then ask questions about the speaker, context, and tone. I was often amazed by his ability to pick up on nuances. If I write a personal poem about them, I’ll ask them to read it and tell me if they object to anything. Writing about them in a general sense doesn’t really faze them, as they’ve been asked by peers about their two fathers since preschool. These days, they gravitate towards graphic novels and manga.

Q: How did you order the collection? What were the compass bearings for this collection?
A: Several years ago, poet David Keplinger and I exchanged projects. At the time, I had written about half of the poems for this collection, then titled “Fatherland.” He provided helpful feedback, including the idea of naming the book after one of the poems, “Rara Avis.” He also suggested starting the collection with this title poem and ending with “The Hummingbird.” Framing the book with a study of birds allowed me to think beyond the narrow subject of fatherhood and consider the various roles we inhabit and relinquish in our different relationships.

Q: What are you working on now?
A: For nearly two years, I have been writing toward a new collection of poems tentatively titled La Cordillera Central, named after the mountain range across Puerto Rico. During this time, I’ve returned to my mother’s homeland multiple times, drawing on art, literature, history, landscape, and idiomatic phrases particular to Spanish spoken on the island. The poems cover a range of political subjects and themes through a deeply personal history, such as the deterioration and collapse of the Arecibo telescope in “The Observatory” or the ruins of the first capital in “Las Ruinas de Caparra.” The title poem recounts a drive through the center of the island, conveying a deep connection with a place that has always loomed large in my heart and imagination.

Blas Falconer is the author of Rara Avis (Four Way Books 2024); Forgive the Body This Failure (Four Way Books, 2018); The Foundling Wheel (Four Way Books, 2012); A Question of Gravity and Light (University of Arizona Press, 2007); and The Perfect Hour (Pleasure Boat Studio: A Literary Press, 2006). He is also a co-editor for The Other Latin@: Writing Against a Singular Identity (University of Arizona Press, 2011) and Mentor & Muse:  Essays from Poets to Poets (Southern Illinois University Press, 2010).

He teaches in the MFA program at San Diego State University.

Falconer’s awards include a 2011 National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, the Maureen Egen Writers Exchange Award from Poets & Writers, a Tennessee Individual Artist Grant, the New Delta Review Eyster Prize for Poetry, and the Barthelme Fellowship.

Born and raised in Virginia, Falconer earned an M.F.A. from the University of Maryland (1997) and a Ph.D. in Creative Writing and Literature from the University of Houston (2002). He currently lives in Los Angeles, California, with his family.