Justin Lacour is a father, a poet, and editor of Trampoline- A Journal of Poetry.
In this interview, we got to get into the little things that make him tick. Bob Dylan. The Buffallo Bills. His children. And a memory involving a potential crime committed with condiments.
Fun fact: Justin’s poem, The #1 dad rises to speak, was our first “official” acceptance here at The Itch!
What’s something completely ordinary that you pay an unreasonable amount of attention to?
I don’t know if this is “completely ordinary,” but I pay an unreasonable amount of attention to Bob Dylan setlists. On his website, you can look up setlists from every show going back decades, so whenever Dylan is on tour (which is more often than not), I check in daily to see what he played last night. It does me good to know Dylan was in Milan on 11/2/26 and closed with “I Shall Be Released.” In the early aughts, I got involved with this online game, “Dylan Pool,” where you’d bet what songs he was going to play on tour. I did exceptionally bad at this because, even though I know some stuff, I was completely out of my league.
Do you think people are more themselves when they’re alone or when they think nobody’s paying attention?
I think I’m more myself when I’m alone. All I know is I talk a lot to myself when I’m alone, and the monologue seems pretty authentic, even though it’s stuff I’d never say.
What kind of memory sticks to you? Not necessarily the important ones—the ones your brain refuses to throw away.
I was at a house party and walked into the kitchen, where one guy was squirting a bottle of ketchup onto the floor and another guy was squirting a bottle of mustard onto the floor, like maybe they were racing to see who could finish first, while a circle of guys clapped in unison. The guy whose house it was walked in and seemed genuinely upset. “What are you doing?!”
What’s something your children have said or done that made you reconsider the world?
I think just watching my kids develop their own interests has been a source of inspiration. My oldest once took a class on puppets which made me realize this was exactly what I wanted to be doing with my life and why wasn’t I doing it? This got me started making puppets. I even went out to Vermont for a puppetry workshop. Puppets turned out to be the gateway to writing poems again after having given it up for years. I can’t really explain it, but I credit my children.
What’s an experience you think every human deserves at least once?
Romance, preferably in New York.
If your family were asked to identify your most annoying habit, what would they unanimously agree on?
I hum when I’m thinking hard. Not like hum a tune, but a droning, machine-like hum.
Have you ever gotten into an argument with an inanimate object? Who won?
Probably my computer and the computer won.
What’s something people mistake for a moral failing that you think is just part of being human?
Impatience. It’s just hard to wait for things, particularly good things.
What’s a tiny act of kindness somebody showed you that probably meant nothing to them but stuck with you?
One time in Chicago, I went out with some people I didn’t really know all that well. None of the bars would let me in because I was under twenty-one, so I offered to see my way home. However, this one guy refused and said he’d rather drink with me in a field than go to any of these bars. Eventually, we found a bar that was less up and up. It was a little thing, but it meant a lot to me.
What’s currently itching at you?
The Buffalo Bills. My son and I hope this will be the year the Lombardi Trophy goes to western New York. I am also falling in love with the poetry of Audre Lorde and Robert Hass, who I neglected for way too long. Following Bob Dylan’s Lights of Autumn tour. I like knowing he’s still out there somewhere, still playing, still tinkering with his catalog, including new words for “Tangled Up in Blue.” I like seeing what my kids get up to, which right now includes art, theater, and soon the new Grand Theft Auto.
Justin Lacour lives in New Orleans and edits Trampoline: A Journal of Poetry. He is the author of two books of poems, A Reading from the Book of Panic (Lavender Ink 2025) and A Season in Heck & Other Poems (Fernwood 2026), and several chapbooks.
