Dylan Weir is the author of the new poetry collection Public House. He lives in Chicago.
Q: Over how long a period did you write the poems in your new collection?
A: Like the collection itself, the answer is a bit circuitous. Most of the poems in Public House were written during the second year of my MFA at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, 2017-2018.
At the end of that year, I began submitting the manuscript to first book prizes and it was named a finalist for the A Poulin Jr. Prize. That felt like a sign I was on the right path. Then it took another seven years of near-misses before I got the call from Kris at Trio House.
There's one exception: the first poem in the book was written around 2023, and was later selected by Anders Carlson-Wee for Best New Poets 2024. Once I'd written that poem, the book finally found its shape and, not long after, its home.
Q: The writer Quan Barry said of the book, “These poems gracefully yet truthfully chronicle the fight for sobriety as the speaker journeys through darkest dark back up into the light.” What do you think of that description?
A: I’m grateful for it. And for Quan.
One thing I noticed is that all three people who blurbed the book wrote about “truth.” It's a hard thing to do – tell the truth. Particularly about a life spent in the pursuit of oblivion, in the grips of addiction. And particularly in autobiographical poems.
I believe Orwell was telling the truth when he said, “Autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying.” In writing this book, I tried not to lie.
The beautiful thing about a blurb is that sometimes you learn more about yourself through someone else’s eyes. When Quan said, “Ultimately Weir’s is a poetry of transformation,” I thought, “Damn, she got me.” I never would’ve said it that way, but that’s what I was trying to do in the course of the book – chart the psychic change required to achieve sobriety. Which is no small thing.
The only thing you need to change is everything.
Q: How was the collection’s title chosen, and what does it signify for you?
A: I grew up in a large Irish Catholic family, where two things were sacred: words and alcohol. So, on one level, the title is exactly what it seems: it’s a book about a drunk with a bar on the cover.
But there's another, more personal, meaning, too. A Public House is a symbol of both exposure and enclosure. Being amongst people and apart from them at the same time. That tension, between exhibitionism and isolation, between wanting to share everything and wanting to disappear, lives at the heart of this book.
Q: How did you choose the order in which the poems would appear in the collection?
A: Intuition. And good help from good readers, most of whom are thanked in the acknowledgements.
Q: What are you working on now?
A: I have two kids (toddlers) so that accounts for a significant portion of my time. And has fundamentally changed my approach to writing. Frankly, I spent a few years not writing at all. The years of rejection were hard. And I wasn’t sure I’d come out of it.
Some days I’m still not sure. Most days I’m too busy picking up toys I’ve just put away or trying to learn how to braid my daughter’s hair and all of the sudden it’s time to go to bed.
I've recently begun trying to crawl my way back. Scribbling out poems in the rare moments of spare time I can find. The poems have been about the kids, about work, and about Centralia, Pennsylvania, an abandoned mining town that's been on fire since 1962.
Something about all three subjects feels related, though I'm still figuring it out.
Q: Anything else we should know?
A: I put my heart and soul into this book. I hope it finds the readers who need it. It will be released in October 2026 and I am available for all the things – reading, interviews, etc., just reach out.
You can find me at dylanweir.com.
--Interview with Deborah Kalb
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