How does a poem begin?
A poem begins as something incredibly small or incredibly big. Usually, in my mind it is born of a juxtaposition or an irony. A dripping leaf after a storm, the impacts of colonialism on the environment, a funny joke, some righteous absurdity that lives in the palm of our hands. To me, growing a poem is always a process of expansion or distillation to find the pure form of an idea, a feeling, a rhythm, a thought, a joke.
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