Nightsun: How often in writing a poem do you know when it’s going to work, that you’re going to be able to take the poem to some satisfying conclusion?
[Stephen] Dunn: My barometer for myself is that I’m not even in my poem until the first moment I’ve startled myself. Usually if I’m wise that day I throw away everything that precedes that moment. I’m interested in my life, of course, but when I write poetry I’m not interested in my life, per se. I’m interested in using it to talk about concerns of mine, perhaps ones I didn’t even know I had. I usually trust that I might be able to bring the poem to some fruition when I’ve written myself into some locus of concern. I’m certainly always ready to fictionalize what appears to be my life for the sake of exploring my subject matter. And I’m not aversed to creating some obstacles for myself, creating things that the imagination must reach toward in order to accommodate. That’s the illusion of good writing, I think, that something might finally seem effortless, seamless, which may have once had many disparate parts. Essentially I’m talking about how a poem finds its structure and shape. Often a poem is a problem solved. (from here)