How Poems Arrive

Poems start outside of my body and are delivered through practices that are somewhat superstitious, empirically motivated, traditionally Buddhist, and have a touch of rigor. I've found this combination is the most reliable method to convert my body into a poem tunnel. The poems have a whooshing noise and feel like they are moving in an old-fashioned pneumatic tube.

Occasionally a poem will come out in a parking lot but usually a poem comes out after I have meditated and journaled. The meditation opens a portal and the journaling clears the rubble on a path and then the poem rides in on the vehicle of a pen. The blend between producing lines and queasily awaiting their direction is a gorgeous smudge or shadow.

I have written my 10,000 truly terrible poems and many poems I write still serve a psychological more than creative purpose. They help me but are probably not of use generally. This is usually clear in a few days but the poems that come through because they themselves need to exist are true joys and gifts of my life.