How does a poem begin?
For me, a poem almost always begins with an accident. Words read and words heard cross paths and bump into each other. Two or three stick together, and an odd sensation or image emerges, a catalyst for other words, feelings, and connections. An accident can happen in the slips and stutters of everyday conversation, or a word overheard colliding with a word being read at the same moment. Another place this sort of accident happens for me is in that odd space between sleep and waking reality. I am a big fan of naps and slumber of all kinds, and I always keep a notebook nearby. So often, just before drifting off, a combination of words will form in my head, and I won’t be able to fall asleep until I write them down. Upon awaking, I read them and have no idea what it means. Thankfully! And, for better or worse, a poem is born…
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