A Poet’s Renaissance, And Everyone’s Sunday Night Secrets

Eileen Myles: “In 1977, I probably would have been out getting trashed the night before and so the wake-up would be filled with so much dread. I wake up and I don’t feel in a state of existential dread. I wake up with a sense of wonder. I don’t dread the future. I like it. Because this is it. But I still hit the coffee hard.”