“Love”: Five Questions for Alex Dimitrov
Alex Dimitrov was born in Bulgaria on November 30th, 1984, and currently lives in New York City. He attended the University of Michigan for his Bachelor’s degree, Sarah Lawrence College for a Master of Fine Arts, and Columbia University in the City of New York to get his Professional Certificate in Publishing. He has lectured and taught at schools such as Princeton, New York University, and Columbia University.
He has written four books of poetry: Ecstasy, Love and Other Poems, Together and by Ourselves, Begging for It, and American Boys. Dimitrov received the Stanley Kunitz Prize and a Pushcart Prize on behalf of the American Poetry Review for his works of poetry in the books stated above. The two poems of his that have appeared in Best American Poetry are The Years in the 2023 Edition and Love in the 2021 Edition.
I was drawn to Alex Dimitrov’s poetry after reading his poem “Love” in the 2021 edition of Best American Poetry. It instantly caught my attention because of its unique structure and message. Through simple wording and short sentences, each line presented a different idea about how love impacts Dimitrov and his perspective on the world around him. This poem has a certain depth that, despite the uncomplicated structure, is not something I found in the other poems in that volume.
I was further intrigued when I discovered that Dimitrov lives in New York City, a place where I used to live and still a place I love to visit. His love for the city’s diverse culture and unique atmosphere has impacted his poetry substantially, as seen in other poems of his. For example, his poem “June” depicts a bustling scene where the speaker is in “Union Square … carrying flowers” on his way to “a party where [he is] expected.” I sincerely appreciated his obvious appreciation for New York City.
One line from your poem that stuck out to me was “I love how people make art even in times of impossible pain.” How have moments of pain or darkness in your life helped you to create poetry?
This is such a great question. I think I’ve had the worst year of my life this year. But I almost don’t want to say that. The personal and professional really both went sideways, and not entirely of my doing. What has really helped me stay on earth isn’t therapy, or a prescription, or anything of the sort. It’s making things. I wrote another book of poems. I’m almost done with a novel. And I started my queer poetry salon Wilde Boys, in a New York gallery called Kapp Kapp. Making things keeps me sane. And really motivates me to get out of bed.
Has there been a period in your life that has influenced your poetry the most?
I think we never get over childhood. However, I have decided not to pull from there. I have pulled mostly from an imagined place. Where I have written over my childhood. I don’t think pain and suffering are necessary or useful.
In lines such as “I love July and its slowness” and “I love that a day on Venus lasts longer than a year,” you touch on your love for the slower moments of life. Does the process of writing poems provide you with a feeling of tranquility similar to those slower moments?
No, actually writing poems is ecstatic for me. It happens fairly quickly, when it’s a real poem, and after you’re kind of high on the writing for a bit. Like maybe 10 or 15 minutes. But writing poetry doesn’t slow me down. Reading certainly does slow me down.
A number of your poems reference New York City. How has living in New York impacted your poetry?
Living in New York has changed my entire life. My thinking, how I write, how I read, how I go about my day and my time here on Earth. Living in New York has given me great hope for being a person.
When did you know that you wanted to pursue poetry as your career?
I wanted to be a songwriter. Which I guess is a type of writer or poet. But I would say around 5 or 6. I used to take piano lessons and I didn’t have the patience. And my grandmother one day said to my aunt, who used to make me take piano lessons, just let him write. It’s what he never wants to stop doing and is always doing. And they both agreed.