When do I know when a moment is a poem? Or worth attempting to see if it’s a poem? For me, it’s a lot about discomfort. When is there a moment where there’s just an edge—there’s something that leaves me with that brow furrow, you know? Like how does that happen? How is that part of the human condition…why? Why, my seven and 10-year-old have been asking the whole time I’ve been lucky enough to be watching them be humans. The “why” is this brow furrow that starts the process and then over time, the sounds and the line breaks are what helps me figure out if this is a poem or if it’s just a journal entry and needs to just sit at my desk for a while.
Department: Interviews