My job as a human being as well as a writer is to feel as thoroughly as possible the experience that I am part of, and then press it a little further.
In the dream life, you don’t deliberately set out to dream about a house night after night; the dream itself insists you look at whatever is trying to come into visibility.
One reason to write a poem is to flush from the deep thickets of the self some thought, feeling, comprehension, question, music, you didn’t know was in you, or in the world.
You can’t write an image, a metaphor, a story, a phrase, without leaning a little further into the shared world, without recognizing that your supposed solitude is at every point of its perimeter touching some other.
Poetry is a release of something previously unknown into the visible. You write to invite that, to make of yourself a gathering of the unexpected and, with luck, of the unexpectable.