While poetry and the horror genre may seem like opposites, they do share some similarities, namely their use of image and metaphor to address deeper issues. Dark Ink: A Poetry Anthology Inspired by Horror contains a wide range of poetic responses to horror. There are haikus about Poltergeist, multiple responses to the Frankenstein story, elegies to Godzilla and Kong, and meditations on horror’s ability to confront deeper issues, such as mental illness, fear of the Other, and feminism. Eric Morago is the editor-in-chief of the anthology, which features 66 poets total, and publisher/editor of Moon Tide Press, located in California.
In your forward to Dark Ink, you write, “As I grew older, I began to appreciate the complexities of the horror genre—how monsters were metaphors and the stories surrounding them commentary on our own society and psychology.” In that sense, do you think this helps to explain why there is such an increased interest in horror right now? Does it have to do with the global unease and unrest?
I do, yes. Horror, like all forms of art, evolves and responds to the cultural and social environment surrounding it, so I think the type of horror film we’re seeing now, which seems to thrill not just the die-hard fans of the genre, but critics and general audiences alike—films like Get Out and A Quiet Place—are direct responses to the topsy-turvy world we find ourselves living in today. We are often confused, angry, and scared in our everyday lives—even if we don’t allow ourselves to feel that we are—watching a horror movie is a way to address and release those feelings through our investment in the stories and characters on screen. Also, I believe, because the issues at the forefront of our collective consciousness are so complex, film makers are being challenged (and often succeeding) to deliver work with more meat on the bone. Forgive the pun. But we, the audience, are eating it up.
This book covers a wide range of horror in pop culture and horror in mythology and literature. There are poems about witch lore, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” the Universal monsters, and zombies. I noticed, though, that the Frankenstein story really inspired a lot of poets in this anthology. There are several poems in response to Mary Shelley’s novel and poems in response to James Whale’s Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein. Why do you think that story still looms so large 200 years after Mary Shelley’s novel was published?
It’s funny…I was surprised, but also not, by how many Frankenstein poems were submitted. I think the story of Frankenstein is the quintessential horror story, and the fact that it enraptures the hearts and minds of so many writers still today is testament to that. There are so many fascinating elements to its narrative—a monster who is created by man in defiance of the natural order, an allegory for God and man, the exploration into what it is to be a monster, and the empathy we, the audience, often have for the creature. There’s so many nuances in Frankenstein that it is ripe for writers to draw from and use as a reflection to themes in their own present-day work.
Tell me a little bit about the cover art. It reminds me of 1950s horror and sci-fi comics. Did you have a certain cover art in mind when you worked with the artist, Leslie White?
I would hope it would remind you of 1950’s pre-code horror comics because that was exactly what we were going for! I sent Leslie a bunch of images of old E.C. horror comics as reference, but she pretty much already knew the style because, being a huge fan of horror herself, she had ideas similar to some of the box art to the film Creepshow (which was also inspired by those old E.C. horror comics). I’m a huge comic book fan, so getting to pay homage to that on the cover was a big win for me. Leslie knocked it out of the park. I love how the illustration itself tells a story. All the E.C. comics covers did that, my favorite being Crime Suspenstories #22, the infamous decapitation cover that helped Fredric Wertham convince Congress that comic books were corrupting our youth. In all fairness, it is a little understandable how society “lost their head” over it; it was pretty explicit.
In your foreword, you draw a connection between horror and poetry. You write, “A poem’s straightforward narrative can imply multiple layers of meaning; the success of this merely rests on the intent and skill of the poet.” Can you expand upon this idea and the similarities you see between the horror genre and poetry?
I gravitate to poetry where the poet communicates clearly what they are thinking and feeling, while allowing the reader freedom to infer their own meaning from the work. Some might view this kind of poetry as “simple.” But, I feel, if the poet is good at their job they can be clear and create a poem that is accessible to a range of readers while at the same time challenging those readers to explore and draw connections between the metaphors and images being used. A skillful poet builds doors in their poems, but doesn’t necessarily walk their readers through them, though should create a clear enough path to find those doors. I believe the same could be said of the horror genre. We’ve all seen “bad” slasher films, and those are fun popcorn movies, but sometimes those slasher movies can be doing something a little more interesting while challenging the audience to think. A slasher movie like Scream,for instance, is much more than just a stab-fest; it presents doors. A film like that, I go back to, to go through the doors and see something new each time, just as I would with a poem that rewards with multiple readings.
I’m really impressed with the wide range of voices and forms in this anthology. For instance, there is haiku about Poltergeist written by Andrew November and more serious poems, like E.J. Schoenborn’s poem “In Which I Become the Babadook,” in which the speaker says, “I am a walking metaphor for mental illness. / I am all my anxiety dipped in oil / and set ablaze.” Can you tell me about the process of selecting and ordering the poems?
I was definitely going for diversity when I was selecting the poems for the anthology. I wanted to make sure there was a good balance between humor and heart, but also on the subject material being explored. Most importantly though, when choosing the poems for the anthology, I tried to respond more as a casual reader rather than an “editor” per se and select poems that I simply enjoyed, poems that elicited an emotional response in me. By taking that “editor hat” off, I felt like I could just read and have fun, and if I was having fun reading a poem, I was willing to beat others would too. As for ordering the poems, well, I just cheated to make things easier on myself and went alphabetically by last name, which surprisingly worked out pretty well. Mariano Zaro’s poem “Fourteen Horses in a Small Chamber”is perfect closing poem to the whole book.
You have a poem in this anthology titled “From Nancy, to Freddy” in which you write in Nancy’s voice and set it in the here and now, the world of social media. Nancy “swipes right for every man in a stripped sweater.” You also mention A Nightmare on Elm Street in your forward. Tell me about the appeal of that film for you.
I’ve always been drawn to horror films that delve a little more in the supernatural and offer glimpses of the strange/unfamiliar. The idea of Freddy, a monster that haunts the dreamscape/another reality, which he can warp to his own sick/bizarre purpose, always fascinated me. The fantastical element of otherworldly environments intrigues me more than just your run of the mill haunted house; settings like the desolate planet in Alien, the dimension the Cenobites come from in the Hellraiser films, and the Upside Down in “Stranger Things” draw me into a story more than blood and guts. I also really dig an ambiguous mythology to a character. Sure, Freddy had an origin story (they tried to flush it out even more so in the later films, but that just got weird, so I choose to ignore it), but how he got to be the force of nature that he is, was always a muddled mystery, so my young imagination was left to explore the possibilities on my own. Those two elements work together to make the Nightmare film(s) have an everlasting appeal to me. Plus, Robert Englund is just an iconic boogieman.
Eric Morago has kindly allowed us to print here his poem, “From Nancy, to Freddy”
How many years has it been since I’d burn skin to stay awake—
to keep from sleep and you? The nightmare ended a lifetime ago;
my bed is no longer a fist of knives, and yet at times, I miss their threat
and tingle along my spine—the hero you made of me. But now, without you,
my monster, what am I? I drink soy decaf lattes with girlfriends, gossiping
over Instagram posts and Twitter feeds. I have too much red wine with dinner,
enough to promise I fall fast asleep. I don’t dream. Remember the boiler room?
How you’d chase me—a ballet of flames reflecting in your eyes. Your blistered
face, a bouquet of scars. Your smile, a snake. How do I get back there?
I want to feel fear in my mouth again, swallow its electricity until I glow
courage. Give me your cackle and taunts—your wolf’s breath at my door,
all huff and puff. Play me a song of razors scraping metal pipes like
the strumming of synthesized guitar. I need a soundtrack for my comeback,
something that builds and builds and builds. God, I am so bored these days,
I swipe right for every man in a striped sweater, hoping their fingers,
on my flesh, are just as sharp as yours. When I ask if, in their bedroom,
they hide a furnace that I can fight my way out of, I am disappointed
when they always say no—relieved when they never call again.
Don’t you feel it’s about time for a sequel? I think tonight I’ll brew
a pot of dark roast and draw myself a hot bath. I’ll let down my guard,
enough to make things interesting. I can see it now—the struggle
to stay alert that only pulls one closer to sleep—the drip and sizzle,
your hand creeping out of the water like a secret, the faint hum
of children singing a lullaby: one, two, Freddy’s coming for…
Would you consider doing another anthology similar to Dark Ink at some point through Moon Tide Press?
Absolutely, I would, but I’m not too certain what that would be at this time. This was an incredible experience and I think it really showcases some great work and poets, so of course I would want to revisit the magic. Being such a huge comic book fan, I expect people assume I’d want to publish a superhero anthology, but it’s been done recently by a good friend of mine, so I unfortunately can’t go that route (Thanks, Rob Sturma, for beating me to that punch). I do have some ideas brewing, but I am open to folks’ suggestions. If there’s a pop culture theme, or any theme really, you’d like to see Moon Tide tackle feel free to shoot me a message at publisher@moontidepress.com.
And here is another poem from Dark Ink, one of the several about Frankenstein:
The Twin Fates of Henry Frankenstein
By Zachary Locklin
The Doctor has been spared!
By order of the studio,
he has been removed from the scene
to stand cowering with Elizabeth
as the Tower collapses.
And yet if you look,
there, against the inside wall,
the white form of his
lab-coated frame
presses back from the flames
and falling rubble.
Who do we believe:
our eyes, or our eyes?
The studio, or the script?
Or can both truths somehow
coexist in parallel?
Can we live and die in equal measure
at all times?
The Doctor has been spared!
But still he presses to the wall
as the ceiling collapses.
Dark Ink: A Poetry Anthology Inspired by Horror is available to purchase through Amazon or through Moon Tide Press. #ad
Brian Fanelli is a poet and essayist whose works have appeared in The Los Angeles Times, World Literature Today, The Paterson Literary Review, Schuylkill Valley Journal, and elsewhere. His latest collection of poems, Waiting for the Dead to Speak (NYQ Books), won the 2017 Devil’s Kitchen Poetry Prize. Brian has an M.F.A from Wilkes University and a Ph.D. from SUNY Binghamton University. He is an Assistant Professor of English at Lackawanna College and teaches a Horror Literature and Film course. He blogs about the genre at www.brianfanelli.com.
He has written for Horror Homeroom on Mohawk and Downrange, on Hereditary, and on Revenge.
