Just when I thought there wasn't room enough for another thought in my head, I had this great idea—
I think that in the process of writing, all kinds of unexpected things happen that shift the poet away from his plan and that these accidents are really what we mean when we talk about poetry.
I lost my ridiculous accent without acquiring another
Poetry is mostly hunches.
A yak is a prehistoric cabbage; of that, we can be sure.
Poetry comes to me out of thin air or out of my unconscious mind. It's sort of the way dreams come to us and the way that we get knowledge from them, through television, old movies, which I watch a lot of. Lines of dialogue suddenly seem to be part of a poem.