Home: ‘home with me had many branches’


Returning to the “old” manuscript before sending it out into the prize/reading zoo again. Returning to Olmsted (his language, his writing, and the act of responding to it in the poems) feels so much like returning home… I think I feel this sensation as much with books I’ve loved as with physical locations. The readings of them feel just as much like a place in my being and identity. I hope someone feels this way about my poems some day.


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