Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.
Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
women are born twice.
Those moments before a poem comes, when the heightened awareness comes over you, and you realize a poem is buried there somewhere, you prepare yourself. I run around, you know, kind of skipping around the house, marvelous elation. It’s as though I could fly.
Craft is a trick you make up to let you write the poem.
Mood can be as important as sense.