A native Virginian, Jamison originally moved to Tucson to study poetry at the University of Arizona but returned because of the city’s vibrant literary culture. For the past year, he’s volunteered at the UA Poetry Center, edited poetry for Spork Press, and served on the POG board of directors. His poetry appears in LIT, PANK, Handsome, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Best New Poets 2009, elimae, No Tell Motel, Makeout Creek, and many other wonderful places.
Jamison’s currently working on a book of laments inspired by unlamentable subjects, specifically movie monsters. In much of his work, he tries to constantly shift between emotional registers, moving sharply between moments of playfulness and moments of cruelty. For example, this excerpt from “Lament for the Man Who Changed his Mind” which originally appeared in >kill author:
Let’s forget our lives. Let’s start at our birth and work our way back
out of the screaming. I gave up
my body to whatever would let me forget it
and I woke up with thirty seven scars.
Each with its own story: this one I was born with
(and the rest as well).
And another example that first appeared in issue 2 of Poor Claudia:
below this song, this dance
A bowl of bones: fibulas nicely stacked and it’s noon out. We slip, we slip—undo the buckle and unzip. Unhook! Noon and the lawn moaning as it grows shorter push by push. Your belt, serpentine, sleeping under my yellow dress. For example, the blinds so deft at whispering shut our secrets. We wear them in our scent. The pale sheets flayed off the wounded bed. Red is understated, like: if you don’t murder me soon, then we’ll have to put it off until later.
Jamison hopes to finish the manuscript of monster laments this summer before leaving Tucson and to begin a book-length poem inspired by the American landscape and fairytales. This August, he’ll begin studying English at UNLV as a Black Mountain Institute PhD fellow.