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“A long time ago I read an essay – I’ve forgotten the author – about the ‘talent of the room.’ Plenty of people have a gift for word or line, the essayist argued, but can you sit for hours struggling over a passage while boisterous, compelling life goes on around you? Can you close the door, be alone, and write? So there’s that – a preference for the solitary trouble of making poems over all the other things I might be doing.”
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