“Lafayette” feels like such a poem of place. You do a brilliant job of conjuring the feeling of being in such a particular place and time. How do you approach capturing the essence of a place in your poetry? Do you rely more on sensory detail, emotional connection, or historical context?

You made it sound like I did something right. Thank you for that. I will say, it is a combination of all three– Holy Trinity of writing. I guess, the goal was to put a scenery diorama in the reader’s mind. I want them to relive the moment with me, to go back to the specific time and place with me, and emotional connection is crucial in that aspect too. In the historical context, I would like to say one thing that came to mind just now. After the famous French artist Le Corbusier visited Belgrade, he said, “ Belgrade is the ugliest city in the world, in the most beautiful place in the world.” I am forced to cross steel with him, cross swords if you will. Even though he is not around to retort to this, he didn’t leave me with a choice; Mister Le Corbusier stated that because he hadn’t seen Belgrade from the inside. I find that type of superficiality unbecoming for a world-class artist. LaFayette is an epistle to the city where I am from, a glimpse into the cabaret full of adventures hidden behind the Italian big boot. It is also a letter to my young self, a young man who escaped the chains of childish sterility and just began to explore the feral nature of his mutating body. The message for that young guy is that not everything will be ok, and that is the beauty of living at full capacity. Tenebrosity hides shame. In the dark, our exploration mechanisms are at their peak. Hence, the ending states, “We need more of the night.” 

What are some of the challenges you faced when writing these two poems or writing poetry generally? How do you handle those challenges?

Because I tend to write what I know, I struggle with superfluous sentimentality. I’ll get stuck amid coherent poetic syntax and prattling sequences of journaling cliches. I read somewhere, a long time ago, that we make better, more rational decisions when we think about the issue in front of us in a different language. So far, that has been fruitful for me. If I write in English, I’ll ponder in Serbian while pruning a piece. And laziness can be a big one sometimes. Thankfully I have my wife by my side to push me when I’m slacking. 

I had to Google the term “Stendhal Syndrome,” and knowing now that this refers to a rare psychosomatic condition that causes a person to experience physical symptoms when exposed to art or architecture they find beautiful,” the poem takes on a sort of ironic perspective, as though the speaker is experiencing this in response to beholding the other person. It’s such a clever little poem in addition to being stunning. Can you say a little more about this poem’s conception and it came to this final form? 

When I was 7 years old, every day before school, channel 3 would play Eric Clapton’s live performance of Layla. One day I was standing in front of the Tv with my pink plastic guitar singing along with Clapton. Since English is my second language, I couldn’t understand the words, but the composition, as a whole, was spellbinding. My heart started to beat faster and harder. I felt so overwhelmed with the bliss and beauty of the harmony that I began to weep. I felt lightheaded and woozy. My mom walked into the room, telling me to get ready for school or I’d get mine. To this day when I hear a composition that fascinates me, my heart starts to palpate and I’m fighting tears. I searched the internet to see if there is an explanation for what I am experiencing, and the closest thing that describes my “condition” is the Stendhal Syndrome. The poem is ambiguous because the narrator sits down with his person at the St. Sava temple plateau. That is one of the biggest temples in the world, and he didn’t begin experiencing the symptoms until the bells began to ring. That simultaneously happened as she said that she missed him. At that point, the reader will decide the tone of the ending. 

What are you reading right now, and what do you recommend?

I’m currently reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. A true masterpiece in a multitude of layers, but, I would recommend “Pushkin’s Hills” by Sergei Dovlatov, one of the most underrated contemporary writers. He is like Chekov who lived in the Soviet era, full of literary bravado. Give it a try. 

Do you have any work forthcoming? What have you been working on?

Speaking of laziness, it spills over into submitting habits too. I do not have any work forthcoming anywhere, at the moment, but I am working on my book hoping to have it done by next year. It will be a melange of short stories, poems, and photographs guiding the reader through unsettling nostalgia.