The style and rhythms of hip-hop permeate much of J.L. Moultrie‘s poetry — such as “contra” and “doves,” both published last October by Hobart Pulp. But this multi-genre writer also draws inspiration from literary giants like Fyodor Dostoyevsky, James Baldwin, and Rainer Maria Rilke.
J.L. is a poet and fiction writer born and raised in Detroit, Michigan, where he continues to reside. He discovered his passion for writing as a form of self-expression and therapy over a decade ago. He describes himself as a “literary abstract artist of modernity,” crafting experiential and abstract works that explore the human condition. His poetry and prose have been widely published in journals such as Datura Literary Journal, Terror House Magazine, The Cabinet of Heed, and Neutral Spaces. Read on to learn more about this week’s featured National Poetry Month writer and his approach to writing, inspirations, and advice to other writers.
1. You’ve called yourself a “literary abstract artist of modernity,” and your work brims with vivid imagery and emotional depth. How do you balance that abstract, instinctive approach with the need to connect with readers? Do you chase the feeling first and refine later, or is it all one fluid process?
My general writing process with poems is really cathartic and instinct driven at the beginning. When things slow down, it’s a comedown from an emotional high, which aids in making hard decisions in terms of what to cut, alter and keep as is. For close to a year, I’ve referred to my poetry as being imagistic in nature. Connecting with the reader has become a high priority in my recent poems and I think any tool can help with that, as long as there’s sincerity on my part. The genesis of each poem is different, for sure. The poem I’m currently working on is a longer extended, non-traditional sonnet about my being in love. All of these elements take me out of my comfort zone. I enjoy challenging myself creatively, for sure.
2. Some of your literary influences are heavyweights like Dostoyevsky, Baldwin, and Rilke. How do these influences inspire your Detroit-rooted perspective? Which of their lessons do you find yourself returning to most often?
Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet is a text I often return to for guidance in all areas of life. I feel the aspects associated with Detroit such as the way the east is shaped different than the west; the long, harsh winters; the history of class and social upheavals all influence my writing. In my formative years, Baldwin and perhaps to a greater extent, Dostoyevsky implored me to navigate and examine my own psyche. I’m reading Crime and Punishment for the first time and my expectations, generated from reading The Brothers Karamazov, Notes from Underground and Notes from a Dead House, have been thoroughly exceeded. Other thinkers I admire are Albert Camus and George Orwell, Plato and Ovid.
3. Poetry seems to be a cornerstone of your creative life. What sparked your love for the form? Was it a specific poem, a moment of personal discovery, or something else? And how does it complement or contrast with your fiction writing?
I began jotting down poetic sketches about fifteen years ago, during a stay in the psych ward. Before that, I listened to classic hip-hop and just displayed a knack for language in school work as a kid. The more poets I read, the more my life began to be enriched by depth and perception.
Functioning with a preoccupation with language should be studied more because of how uncanny and individuated an experience it is. Some of my favorite poets are Solmaz Sharif, Victoria Chang, Hart Crane, Sylvia Plath, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Maggie Nelson, and Edgar Allan Poe. My favorite prose writers are Hemingway, Faulkner, Raymond Carver and Nabokov. I think poetry seeps into all of my writing, like subtle rain. However, writing prose pulls me out of my comfort zone, so poetics are a skill I rely on while crafting prose because of its ability to say so much with so little. I think my prose is a lot less inherently ambiguous and open ended than some of my poetry tends to be.
4. Living in Detroit and publishing in journals like Datura and Terror House, you’ve got a unique lens on poetry in 2025. What’s your take on its pulse right now? Do you see the world of poetry thriving with fresh voices, struggling under trends, or evolving in ways that surprise you?
I feel as a form, poetry is the heartbeat of the arts and can’t help but to grow, change, and transform. I love how each generation questions what a poem is and can do. Poems that speak from experience are the best to me and there are a lot of poets engaging with language for the right reasons. Personally, I think writing should speak to the times and address what’s at stake for each of us in the present moment. For me, poets endanger the status quo because they’re willing to speak when others are silent and are willing to be silent when everyone is speaking. As Shelley said, “poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.” I feel that poetry is a byproduct of pursuing wisdom and understanding.
5. For aspiring poets and prose writers looking to carve their own path, what’s the one piece of advice you’d offer based on your decade-plus journey in the literary world?
I want to say embrace your imperfections, stay open to your creative potential and be honest with yourself. I would also say to embrace solitude, being misunderstood and rejected. Balancing monetary and artistic goals is an impasse I’m still navigating and will be a fork in the road for writers of any style or walk of life. It took me a while to accept that there’s no one else who can speak to my experience of being human than myself. When I was younger, I was hesitant to be vocal or unfiltered because the external world unsettled me more than anything. I came to understand that none of that matters in the big picture and will only sap my creative energy.
Reading deeply and widely is the best advice I can give. Also, examine your own intentions as to why you want to be a writer. If you discover that your only goals are attaining superficial success or influence, then find another pursuit. However, if writing contributes to your sense of humanity and fulfills you by itself then, by all means, keep going.
Andy writes! 