There is so much about the process of writing that is mysterious to me, but this one thing I've found to be true: writing begets writing.

I don’t worry anymore about writing. There are times that I go through dry periods. I never go through a block. I’m always writing, but there are times where I’m just not on my game, and I’ll use that time to read some new poets, go see some art, walk down to the river and just stare at it, or have a conversation with my sister, or whatever—do whatever it is that I do in my life, hoping that I’ll get filled up enough. And something will happen, some juggling will happen and boom.

W.S Merwin says "after three days of rain" and I write "After Twelve Days of Rain." I like his quietude. I admire his ability to be simple without being simplistic.

Tinted Distances is a tender meditation that reveals a careful eye and steady devotion to elegy and ode.

Every good poem asks a question, and every good poet asks every question.

I also have my backpack of the tried-and-true, and because it is new to [my students], it becomes fresh to me again as well.

Good writing works from a simple premise: your experience is not yours alone, but in some sense a metaphor for everyone's.