Interview with Lucas Lui, Poetry Contributor
In this interview with our poetry contributor, Lucas Lui, we discussed the process behind his poems, metaphors, and more about his life as a writer. Read his full poem on Issue 3 of Temple Literary Magazine!
Q: This poem’s setting in New York City around your grandfather’s birthday made our editorial team wonder why you chose to write about these elements specifically. Was there any memory, experience, or spark that inspired you to write this poem?
A: I had written this poem in the springtime of 2026 in poet Wo Chan’s creative writing class. They had given a prompt of writing a poem surrounded around giving a gift, ranging from the material itself, the reaction of the receiver, or the anticipation of the giver. My grandfather’s birthday had already passed during this time, but I remembered the feeling of guilt in not being able to find something, to give something. That feeling was so interesting to me and I let it guide itself to be the antithesis of the prompt. What happens when you cannot give? What if the poem is the gift but the recipient is unable to read it?
Q: In your poem, you talk about certain moments in your grandfather’s history, like the Second Sino-Japanese War that we would love to have our audience be more familiar with. Would you like to expand on your grandfather’s experiences and explain why you chose to use them in your poem?
A: I don’t want to speak for my grandfather, I think it would be too trespassing to share a history that is not primary to me. But he has known how cruel and unwavering the world can be at an early age, the details in the poem are true. And I think I chose those details to appreciate the physical presence and company of someone, especially when no one lasts forever. It’s a blessing that I can hold and talk to my grandfather who holds so much history of tragedy. And perhaps for my grandfather, a future he didn’t know could be possible now.
Q: Why did you choose to use the certain format with two sections for this poem? Was it to simulate the feel of a letter, to make distinctions between New York and China, or something else?
A: I felt the two sections became the way they are because of the different addresses each section makes. The speaker in the first section is so aware of themselves and their shortcomings until the “you” comes in and is explored and projected onto in the second. Your interpretations are interesting too, I’ve been curious about the idea of the open letter, making the private public. Maybe the structure can also play with the title and notes of the language barrier. It’s multifunctional I suppose.
Q: Are there any writers and poets that you take inspiration after to write your poetry?
A” I believe reading poets’ voices can make you attune to your own poetic voice and find where your resonance lies. Ocean Vuong’s psychic distance was a strong stepping stone for me, his poems’ intimate “you” narrows that distance between speaker and reader. Mary Oliver’s deceptively simplistic language is world building. Lately I’ve been trying to tap into Catherine Barnett’s sonic energy, her poems place greater emphasis on sound than meaning. I highly encourage one to read the voices past and present.
Q: You mentioned in your bio that you have read for the Poetry Society of New York, the New York Public Library, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. What is some advice you would give to new writers who would like to spread their voices and speak at events in the future?
Those poetry readings came about by applying to literary competitions like the NYPL Teen Voices and the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. So when new writers feel ready and have the desire to find a new home for their work, they can submit and see what can come into fruition. To read a poem is such an otherworldly experience, however. Carry weight with each word and practice when to quicken or pause, change tones, or run over the line breaks. Honor your poem, your work, with an intimate delivery—a voice entirely your own.
