Tethered by Letters was kind enough to ask me some really interesting questions, which I tried to answer. Here's a little excerpt:
At a certain point a few years ago, I realized that I could not write another word without understanding the history of thought. This came at a point when all my poems seemed to be about the same things—loss, abandonment, dissolution of family, dissolution of ideality. I started feeling deeply skeptical of every phrase I wrote. I started reading Wittgenstein instead of Keats. I wondered about the ethics of using metaphor. I wondered whether crafting an image was, in fact, arbitrarily changing the subject. I realized that if I ever wanted to get out of this, I would have to study philosophy.