Q: Do you tend to read your poems the same way each time? Do you feel like there’s a right way for you to read them? A: I hear them a certain way. The most exciting thing is to read a poem out loud for the first time. There’s a whole kind of inside thing bursting out, and I’m always dying to hear it. I do hear it in my head, but I never read it out loud to myself until I’m in front of people. Q: You never read a poem out loud when you’re writing it? A: No. That seems obscene to me.
There’s just no true working-class vernacular in my life. My parents were the children of immigrants. My dad had two different kinds of Irish accent. My mother wanted us to speak good English because her first language was Polish. But the kids next door, who were lower class than us, spoke like Huck Finn. I wanted that. Part of it was my longing then to be real, like in books or in comic books. And when I briefly went to graduate school, people were talking about black English. I thought, Isn’t there some white equivalent? There is, but there isn’t. White people are too afraid to be trash. I was told the other day that I have the most hated accent. She meant I have the accent considered most racist to black listeners. That’s working class. ‎- волна бургерных