"Clifton had six children and made poems not in 'a room of one’s own' but, rather, at the proverbial kitchen table, with family life proceeding around her. “Why do you think my poems are so short?” she would often say, with a laugh, when people would ask how she managed to write so many books."
Elizabeth Alexander, in a profile of Lucille Clifton, The New Yorker
"..all the banal (or not) objects and experiences around me were reenchanted. The world seemed ludicrously, suspiciously, adverbially sodden with meaning. Which is to say that [my child] made me again more like a writer (or at least a certain kind of writer) precisely as she was making me into someone who was, enduringly, not writing."
Rivka Galchen, Little Labors
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