I was a late bloomer. But anyone who blooms at all, ever, is very lucky.
My poems - I don't even like the sound of that, in a way. Not that anyone else wrote them. But we know that only people who are really close to us care about our personal experience.
Well, one thing I'm really interested in, when I'm writing, is being accurate.
A family is a mystery.
Maybe in order to understand sex fully/one has to risk being destroyed by it.
I'm not asking a poem to carry a lot of rocks in its pockets. Just being an ordinary observer and liver and feeler and letting the experience get through you onto the notebook with the pen, through the arm, out of the body, onto the page, without distortion.