How does your work first enter the world? Do you have a social group or writers group that you work ideas and poems with?
I don’t have a writers group, but I am lucky enough to work with a handful of truly brilliant scholars who I can flesh out ideas with. Once I realize what a poem is asking for, I know immediately which colleague to go to for a reading list.
How do you know when a poem is finished?
I don’t think I ever know when a poem is finished. Or if it’s finished, at all. I do recognize that I’ve taken a poem as far as a I can when it’s no longer demanding my attention, when it settles down a bit, feels content in itself, warts and all.
How important is music to your poetry?
I remember reading Richard Hugo as an undergrad, who claims, “truth must conform to music,” and I was so utterly convinced by his argument I haven’t thought otherwise. Recently, I’ve become more and more drawn to spareness in poetry. A quieter, subtler music. More Chopin than Liszt.
What other poetry books have you been reading lately?
I’ve been re-reading Sandra Lim’s The Curious Thing, alongside George Meredith’s Modern Love, for a new manuscript I’m working on. And Vanessa Angélica Villareal, as well. And Anne Carson. And Thomas Hardy. And Donika Kelly. And George Herbert. My desk is a little crowded right now.
What do you feel poetry can accomplish that other forms can’t?
Is poetry uniquely capable of accomplishing more than other forms? I think it’s uniquely comfortable remaining in a place of unknowing. Or maybe it’s unique in that it’s sense of accomplishment or completion is different from other forms, but we’d have to ask a painter or an architect or an athlete about that.
