Grace Cavalieri's interview with Nin Andrews is a must read. Here is a little sampler:
Poetry, when it’s happening, is like sex. It totally suffuses me. (I like the word, suffuse.) Afterwards I always forget how it worked.
I don’t mean that I literally forget. Of course, there’ s a pen and paper. Or two people. But there is that aha moment, and I sometimes think, Oh! Now I know how this works! But if I try to do the same thing the next time, it’s boring. Because it’s that sudden appearance of a fresh and present moment I seek—something that is not yet past and not yet lost . . . I sometimes think of Martin Buber, how he talked of the different ways of relating to the world: the I-it being the most familiar, referring to relationships in which you see the world as a collection of objects, predictable and useful. And the I-Thou, meaning a a communion with others (or the world) and oneself. In the I-Thou, nothing is formulaic. (Or at least, that’s how I interpret Martin Buber and what he said at length in his wonderful book, I-Thou, or rather, Ich und Du. I love the sound of that, Ich und Du.)
I realized from writing poems that I am a bit of mystic. (Or am I just a poetry addict?) I will do anything for that moment of union. On a good writing day, I feel bold and crazy and sometimes insanely happy, wildly in love with words and the world. But after for several hours of writing, I am usually exhausted. But the I who writes is quite different from the I who lives in the world. When I am not writing, I am introverted and shy. I worry about ridiculous things. Sometimes I get so nervous, I forget my phone number, my address, my maiden name.