There are some elements of life that feel unconnected to poetry (taxes, weeknight dinners, exercise routines), until my being a poet becomes the inevitable excuse for why I’m doing them badly or, at least, a little strangely. I’m becoming more comfortable identifying as a poet, but I’m not entirely sure that is a good thing, for myself or for poetry, ha! But it’s a fact that every notebook I own has poetry in its pages. The line, the enjambment, the concentrated image: that’s my natural syntax.

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