Okie Craft: An Interview with Durell Carter

Interview Conducted by Corinne Gaston


The Okie Craft Series focuses on the Oklahoma writing life. We interview writers across the state about their writing practice and about what it means to be part of the Oklahoma literary community.


We asked Oklahoma poet and educator Durell Carter about his forthcoming poetry collection Views From the Red-Light Aquarium, his thoughts on poetic inspirations and his reflections on the Oklahoma literary scene as an educator. Here’s what he said.

His book can be preordered in early November from Turning Plow Press or from his website.


Your new collection of poems, Views From the Red-Light Aquarium, is forthcoming with Turning Plow Press. Tell us what the book is about, and what inspired you to write it.

The book is about everything that has helped me grow or that has shaped who I am. I'm looking at the world through a fishbowl or an aquarium, and in each direction I look, I see something that has impacted me. My culture, my family, my country, or watching transformation and agency take shape within myself. I try to cover a lot of different issues that have helped me understand myself and my surroundings.

Did you structure the book a certain way to suit how you’re tackling all these different topics?

I created five sections. I had the northern wall of glass, the southern wall of glass, the eastern wall of glass, the western wall of glass, and then, right in the middle, I had the floating castle—like that little place where you go a little bit deeper into yourself. Each section is talking about a specific category, and I told myself that I'm gonna let people figure out which category is which, but I don't hide it too well. I try my best to make sure you know what I’m talking about.

Is there a poem that you identify as the axis of the collection that the whole book is spinning around? Is there an axis in each section?

That's a good one. “Indigo Black” is the poem that leads the book. It’s a pivotal piece about me talking to my grandpa. He's looking at me and understanding that I'm undergoing something that he can't necessarily help me through. As his grandson, there are things I’m trying to navigate. I’m trying to be someone he raised me to be. There's another poem called “Good American” that I'm kind of nervous about because of the state of our country right now. We have all these ideas about what it means to be a good American in this country. Right now it feels kind of weird to call myself a good American because I don't know what that means anymore. So I wrote a poem asking, “Is there such a thing as a good American?” I think this poem carries a lot of the book with it, because I'm questioning so many different things regarding family and how we see different cultures. Is a good American someone who thinks completely differently from you? Is a good American someone who prays for the mothers of dead rappers? The title poem itself, “Views from the Red-Light Aquarium,” is one of the poems I'm most proud of because it took me about three weeks to write and that's insane for me.

How long does it usually take you to write a poem?

For the foundation, I can go into my backyard for maybe thirty minutes and I'll have the bones of a poem. Later on that night I'll tinker around with it, and then I'll ask my wife what she thinks. I judge based on that, if the poem is all right, if it’s done. On average, it takes me thirty-five to forty-five minutes. 

Going back to one of the core poems of my book, “Views from the Red-Light Aquarium” captures so many different things. It asks: how can we still find love for each other and for ourselves? The world is telling you you have to be, think, and navigate things a certain way. But then I look at the past and think about our heroes. All the people who have fought, all the people who have gone through so much. If they could push through for us, we might have hope. We have to continue with that in our own way. So that poem explores that. 

Do you mind just sharing a bit more about your role as an educator and how that experience influences your poetry?

 I teach sophomores and juniors at Piedmont High School. This is my eleventh year in the classroom, tenth year officially as a teacher. I don't know if I could do anything else. I love getting kids to think critically and observe the world around them and also get them to observe themselves. A lot of them are starting to look at the world for the first time, and I'm trying to get them to truly be prepared once they leave high school. I want to help shape their empathy through literature. Every single thing that we read, every single thing I get them to write is to help them grow as human beings.  

Tell us more about your writing practice. What helps you get from the foundation of a poem to the next stage of it? What helps maintain your writing practice as a poet? 

When I start thinking about things, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. I know that there are a lot of poets that keep a notepad around with them to capture their thoughts. But like, I remember I went to a workshop I ran by Jericho Brown—

 Wow! Okay.

—And he said it’s perfectly fine to use the expensive phone we’re paying for, whether that’s the Notes app or Google Docs. Ever since then, I’ve always kept a Google Doc available to dabble in. I’ll sit in my backyard and look at the trees, the wildlife, the birds. It’s a little oasis where I feel peace, and a majority of my poems are written there. On weekends I write in the morning, and on weekdays it’s probably a Tuesday night because the other nights I’m too tired. After I lay the foundation, I go through the poem more precisely on my laptop and figure out what to take out, because when I get on a roll, I stack images and unnecessary words. I’ve learned that less is more. Sometimes you’ve got to subtract lines, images, and pointless words, and focus on connecting the dots through the entire poem and getting the central message together. I’m also working on not being too precise, leaving a bit of humanity and vulnerability in my poems instead of turning every line into a beautiful metaphor.

Speaking of Jericho Brown, which poets and writers have been your greatest teachers and inspirations? And is he one of them? 

Oh, yeah. I started taking writing seriously back in 2018. In 2019, I followed [Brown] on Twitter and DMed him, asking for help on how to make a concrete ending in a poem because I was struggling. He gave me advice that I take to this day. Another poet that I love is Hanif Abdurraqib because of the way he talks about raw emotions in a contemporary, honest, and unique way. I can't write like him, and that's what makes me love his work so much. He has the ability to be as unique as possible and describe a sunset in a way that hits me in my chest. He can describe loneliness and honest emotions that, as Black men, we have to hold down. That's something I try to get past, because I've been taught to be stoic, to be a stone wall. But when I read his work, I see that he grew up in the same time I did and he experienced the same world I experienced. Whenever I'm trying to write about serious emotions and vulnerabilities, I think about his work and how he's able to go there. I want to go there too, and that inspires me to speak to other young Black men or even older Black men about what we’re going through. Jericho Brown does the same exact thing.  

Which Oklahoma-based poets have inspired you?

For Oklahoma, I've been blessed to have some poetry OGs who have truly moved me, like Rob Sturma, who is hosting and reading at my book release party. When I first went to a Red Dirt [Poetry] reading, he was the guy. I went to Red Dirt after graduating from UCO [University of Central Oklahoma], after not being in a poetry community for about two years. I was expecting academic style poets. I got up to read, and I was fresh as a poet, fresh out of academia, so I was writing in a very academic way. Rob Sturma was the last one to go up, and his work was so performance driven. There's no other poet that can read a Rob Sturma poem the way that he can. I remember how he controlled the stage. He’s a killer on the mic, man. He's great. I realized that there were levels to poetry. He pushed me to grow as a reader on the mic. He told me, “Read your work like you love it. Read your work like you're your work. Read your work like it matters. Read your work like it's going to save somebody.” That's something he told me and it changed me. And obviously you have Oklahoma greats like Ken Hada and Dr. Q [Quraysh Ali Lansana] who’ve inspired me too.

Both incredible teachers.

Q once taught me at a dinner table about how to dissect a poem in, like, maybe ten minutes.  This is, like, recently, man. I thought I was killing it as a poet. Then we talked about a poem and he reshaped how I look at it. I can only imagine what it would be like to be a student in his class for a semester.

What stood out most about how he taught you to dissect poems?

The wording, mostly. Even though I teach perspective and purpose all the time and read poetry constantly, he made me realize I still sometimes undervalue the importance of a word, or the importance of a speaker’s background. He pushed me to really dissect where the speaker or character is coming from because that’s where the important pieces of the poem or story lie. It hammered home that every word matters, so don’t overlook a single piece. It’s also nice, because just when you start to feel yourself, you meet somebody on a whole different level, and you think, “Oh, okay. Yeah.”

What are you still learning as a writer?

As I get older, I’m learning I don't have to make every line a statement about how good of a poet I think I am. I don't have to prove myself by making every single line pretty or decorated. I can be more raw. In the world of AI, we could use a bit more mess, a bit more honesty and vulnerability. I'm also trying to work on my line structure because it’s easy to find a nice little pocket and stay in that pocket. I don't only want to score. I wanna be able to dish the ball, I wanna be able to grab a rebound, block shots. I wanna diversify my game. I’m a lyric-driven poet with a narrative I want to paint with language. So, for example, haikus feel restrictive to me, but part of me thinks I should mess around with them more. Same with sonnets. Reading Terrance Hayes, I think, “Yeah, that’s something I aspire to do.”

For the writing of your new collection, were there any lessons that you took from writing and publishing your first collection of poems, Mr. Monday Morning's Broken Songs and Testimonies (2023)?

Yes, so much. I realized sequencing is super important, so I focused on it with this new book, which is why I broke it into sections. This time I needed a specific order, with each section bouncing off the others and reverberating through the whole collection. I didn’t do that with Mr. Monday Morning’s Broken Songs and Testimonies. I just let it run, like a mixtape, because I was introducing myself to the poetry world and putting my best work from that era together, hoping people could see the vision. During that era, I lost my mom, my dad, and my uncle, and I was dealing with a lot of grief. Almost all the poems fit that topic, so I felt I had to name the book after it.

Thank you for sharing that. Sticking with theme, I'm curious which topics do you find yourself returning to and grappling with as a poet?

It depends on what’s going on. There are certain moments in our country that make me want to stop everything and write. Mostly, though, I gravitate toward my family and upbringing. My grandparents took me in when I was eleven and officially adopted me and my brother when I was twelve. My grandpa was a preacher and spent over thirty years in the Air Force, so my upbringing was very strict and very religious. That’s my foundation and how I saw the world. As a writer, I examine my relationship with God. I don’t really go to church anymore, but at thirty-six it’s still heavy, still living and breathing on my shoulder. I go back to the lessons he taught me and tell stories through the language he introduced me to. Not every poem is religious, and some I’ll probably have to answer for someday. But I look back at what shaped me because a lot of people see a six-foot-two, 300-pound Black man and probably think a certain thing. A white student once told me that they wanted to be a Black man so they wouldn't feel anything.

Wow.

I thought to myself right then and there that I'm going to use my poems to talk about my experiences, how I felt, and how those moments shaped me. I have students that Google me and read some of my work, and it's super dope because I have Black boys who will act super nonchalant but they're writing some real stuff, and they feel comfortable sharing with me because they know I'm writing about similar things. I try to write about whatever I'm going through because I know I'm not the only one. A lot of us are taught not to talk about it.

You’re someone those boys can look up to because of your self-expression. That really complements your role as an educator.

When I was growing up, I didn't have someone I could actually be myself around. The goal in becoming a teacher was to help all of my students feel comfortable being themselves around me and to encourage them to chase their passions.

You’re also a fellow with the Oklahoma Writing Project, which is designed for educators. Can you tell me about that experience? 

I went through the Oklahoma Writing Project in 2021, and I spent three weeks on OU’s campus with a bunch of amazing teachers. We would write for just about seven hours a day, constantly putting ourselves in our students' shoes and growing as teachers through writing. Some of those days were very emotional because writing teaches you who you are. I grew in my ability to empathize with students, and I was alongside a bunch of awesome teachers that I still respect to this day. It’s a great program, and I encourage all teachers to experience it. The program is not just for English teachers, but anyone who wants to infuse their curriculum with writing, which you can do in any subject. I definitely support it, and I’m thankful for that time.

What is making you excited and hopeful about the Oklahoma literary scene, especially as an educator?

The Oklahoma literary scene feels like it’s booming right now, and a lot of the writers are educators. I’m hopeful that this trickle-down effect will reach our students. I see it in my classroom: students writing dope poetry, students who want to write for fun, students who actually care. We’re in a tough spot with media literacy and AI, but I think that as time goes on, students will want to create, read, and discover for themselves, because they’re constantly surrounded by robotic, unempathetic text. I believe they’ll want creativity and humanity. They’re alive, and they’ll want that connection, because you can’t live in the grave for too long, and that’s what this AI culture is trying to create.

What advice do you have for young writers or us thirty-and-up writers who are still chasing the dream?  

Read, and not just the authors you were taught in school, but people writing right now. Seek mentorship, and don’t think you have it all down. Learn how to take feedback and criticism. That’s the main thing. When I was starting out in 2019, the first poem I sent out got accepted, so I figured that’s how it would go. Then came rejection after rejection, and I thought maybe this ain’t for me. But I wanted to grow, so I kept going. You’ve got to keep going. Look at rejections like a momentary pit stop, and don’t let them or other writers’ feedback break you. Just because a poet gives you feedback doesn’t mean you have to accept it. Get comfortable in your own skin. Get comfortable with people not always understanding what you’re saying. Find ways to weed out the negative, keep the positive, and don’t keep your head down too long. When a journal turns me down, I think, “Dang,” and then I think, “That’s their loss.” I know that sounds bad, but it keeps me in the game. Say, “All right, I’ll write better stuff. I’m gonna get better.” They’ll want something from you someday. Sometimes they’ll have a point, but you have to set your mind on the next publication. Then the next one, and the next one…

What are you reading right now?  

Right now I am reading Love Prodigal by Traci Brimhall. She was one of the featured poets at [the 2026] Scissortail Creative Writing Festival. I'm reading Fear Less: Poetry in Perilous Times by Tracy K. Smith as well because I like to read multiple things. Fear Less is a book on how to dissect poems and how to approach poetry from multiple vantage points. Tracy K. Smith is definitely a poet I'm reading trying to emulate.

Thanks for those recommendations. Where can our readers preorder your book Views From the Red-Light Aquarium and how can we support you? 

Preorder will hopefully be available from Turning Plow Press by November 6. At the actual book release, hopefully we'll have copies of the book but if not, I'll have preorder slips available. I'll also have the book available for purchase on my website, durellcarter.org.

Is there anything else you want to share that we didn't talk about?  

The Oklahoma writing scene is in a very beautiful spot right now. And I encourage people to go to open mics. I encourage people to support local Oklahoma poets and writers. We have a very, very talented crop of creatives in this state. 


A poem by Durell Carter

“Views From the Red-Light Aquarium”

The sun falls out of the sky

but the glowing cherry remains—

The world is still bleeding,

still clamping gauze to wounds

that don’t know the meaning

of time. The world is still 

clamping today, tomorrow, 

and dreams of heaven-painted

humanity to its lungs,

hoping that it’s good enough

to stop the air we breathe 

from becoming touched with 

Dragon Chest Syndrome—

an airborne disease 

that causes travelers

to want to burn everything 

beautiful 

that’s not theirs. 

The red light we swim in 

quickly draws the chlorophyll 

to the surface 

of our purpose

dystopia-ing

our buildings, 

our future heroes 

inspired by spray-canned 

murals of the heroes 

who lost everything, 

and everyone labeled “apex”

that believe themselves

conqueror and forever. 

Everyone’s a red robin.

Everyone is worthy of having a snapshot of them 

taken while standing next to a tree, 

singing a song for their god, for their mother, 

for the hatchling 

they never got to be.


The Igneous 

& The Magmafied—

those exposed to actual volcanoes,

know it’s not as hot as it looks

outside. 

They know:

it’s cool enough for memories to dance 

on the driveway that leads strangers to you.

It’s cool enough to make love 

to the person who chooses to save you 

from you.

It’s cool enough to thank God 

for the echoes that hum purple

and mother's forehead kiss. 

Red floats and glides on the aquarium walls,

and I know I should be seeing anything related to rage,

anything related to an image of a red hourglass on a Black Widow.  

And yet, the stained-glass windows that pours 

Church-With-My-Grandma Strawberry Candy Red 

are what I choose to photosynthesize my faith into— 

a world I have yet to breathe on.


Durell Carter is a writer based in Oklahoma City. He holds an MA in Literature from the University of Central Oklahoma. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize multiple times, and received nominations for the Best of the Net and Best New Poets anthologies. He is the author of the chapbook Mr. Monday Morning’s Broken Songs and Testimonies and the poetry collection Views From the Red-Light Aquarium.

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