



Kalvin M. Maadsen
Nov 2, 2025
An Interview with Kashawn Taylor
Poet and educator Kashawn Taylor is a writer who moves seamlessly between forms, yet his dedication to the meticulous craft of verse is evident in his acclaimed work. With a new collection, subhuman., focusing on the criminal justice system, and a growing presence in contemporary literary circles, Taylor ’s insights into the evolving landscape of poetry offer a valuable perspective on the discipline required to master the form and the expanding avenues for its reach.
For Taylor, the act of writing poetry demands a unique kind of precision absent in his approach to fiction or nonfiction. While all writing requires effort, poetry necessitates a level of minute attention that elevates it beyond other forms.
"When it comes to poetry, I am always searching for new ways to say things that have already been said a million times," Taylor explains. "There is a meticulousness that comes with writing poetry that I don’t feel when I am writing fiction or nonfiction... the attention to detail, how things are being said, how they occupy blank space, stands at the forefront of my mind."
This careful composition means that even when a poem appears "unruly," Taylor finds it to be inherently more disciplined than its prose counterparts. The challenge of stringing together the "perfect words" for a poem, he notes, is a task that typically requires him to undertake much more revision than a short story or essay.
Taylor is optimistic about the current state of poetry, noting that the contemporary scene is "expanding wildly," creating a space for a diverse array of voices and styles—from confessional poets and explosive free-verse writers to those who adhere to strict traditional forms.
A key development has been the increased accessibility of the art form, particularly through digital platforms. "It’s so much easier now to find great poetry online than even five years ago and many outlets are free," he observes. This expansion, Taylor believes, is paramount, as it allows for the discovery of "this, and next, generation’s greats."

As an educator, Taylor’s advice to his students focuses on the fundamental necessities of a sustainable writing life: persistence and practice.
He urges aspiring poets to "keep going"—to continue writing and, equally important, reading. He also emphasizes that those seeking publication must accept that rejection is part of the process. "Art is subjective, and their work will find its home in due time," he reassures them.
Furthermore, Taylor stresses the importance of establishing a writing practice that extends beyond the desk. "Writing is not just sitting down at a computer or with a notebook," he points out, "it’s also the time you spend thinking about ideas, revising in your head."
When reflecting on the poets who shaped his own development, Taylor immediately names Ocean Vuong. Vuong published his first chapbook during Taylor’s freshman year of college, a time when Taylor was still figuring out his identity as a writer and considering a focus on fiction.
"His work inspired me to write poetry, not just as a Creative Writing 101 assignment," Taylor recalls.
Vuong remains a cornerstone of inspiration; Taylor still returns to his chapbooks and collections for guidance whenever he feels his own work is falling short of his aspirations.
When asked to imagine the most unconventional location for a poetry reading, Taylor’s choice is deeply connected to his work. He would choose the rec yard of a prison.
Taylor’s forthcoming collection, subhuman., is a collection of "prison poetry" that speaks to and about those impacted by the criminal justice system. He believes a reading in that environment would be a powerful statement, sharing his work with those who have lived through similar situations but may not have had the outlet to express those feelings in words.
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