We talked about how writing a poem is no different from taking out a frying pan and concocting a dish out of the ingredients available in the house, how in poetry, as in cooking, it’s all a matter of subtle little touches that come from long experience or are the result of sudden inspiration. I recall once Mark sitting deep in thought after dinner for what seemed like a long time before finally looking up at me and saying: “I don’t think I put enough cheese in the risotto tonight.” I had to agree. Cooking is like that and so is poetry. It reminded me how often I was jolted by a thought about some poem of mine that I was either working on or had already published in a book and now struck me as being in need of an additional word or two to bring it to life more fully. He said it was the same with him. We were just a couple of short-order cooks who kept trying to pass themselves off as poets.
Charles Simic.
