“Odd, then, that this is where poetry seems to begin too – single words or phrases, or just a rhythm sliding from one train of thought to another, nothing to do with reason, or philosophy or the intensely meant moral or political ideas that, surely, poetry is supposed to ‘be about’. But no, making a poem is more like beachcombing than some considered, professional practice; there is nothing deliberate there to explain, you just begin to feel it and then, gradually, things – images, words, echoes – begin to cohere.”