In the poems I write, I try "to speak directly of decisive moments," as poet Galway Kinnell remarks of his own work, often employing extended sentences sustained and broken across free-verse lines inhabited by what T. S. Eliot called "the ghost of a meter."  Such moments might involve births or deaths, the discovery or loss of love, or the sofa bursting into flames—the upheavals, real and surreal, that life brings.  In my view and in my practice, poems begin in chaos and end, when they succeed, in community.  More than the moment of inspiration, I enjoy the long, often arduous, and sometimes frustrating process of revision, honing the poem until the lines and the language feel and sound right, possessing an ease that belies the labor.


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