Kevin Young

I think that whether it's that mailbox or the image of my son climbing a tree, these small moments, I think, are what The Extraordinary is made of.

And I think that

kind of idea of the miraculousness of the everyday was so important to me.

And to me, that's where paradise lies.

It doesn't lie in some external thing or doesn't lie in some notion that's far from earth only.

It also can lie here and within us.

And, you know, I make it sound like it's a book of, of

preachiness, but it isn't.

It's really, I hope, a book of, as it ends with, a kind of rapture.

And that rapturousness sometimes ends up being quite hard.

It's hard to move about, and especially now when things can seem kind of despondent or divided or strange, I love that we still have language to try to help us understand that.

And for me, that's what poems do.

That's what

Nature does.

There's a lot of nature in the book.

But also this idea of the night watch, of keeping vigil, is important.

And if there's something about that, about being vigilant, but not just against things, but toward what's possible and beauty, then I'd be happy.

Yeah, he's got to keep working.

That ball straight at him, came in, got a bad read.

And, you know, he's been working hard out there.