If poetry failed me, I wouldn't stop it, but I would really need to wise up and get a job to support my family.

I was not going to be the person who just tinkered with their hobby while somebody else supports them.

I didn't, I was, I felt too guilty to do that.

This is Death, Sex, and Money.

The show from WNYC about the things we think about a lot and need to talk about, I'm Anna Sales.

Ocean Wang is 34 years old and one of the literary world's most celebrated contemporary writers.

As of last year, he's also a tenured faculty member at NYU, which has meant spending time back in New York City, where he lived for most of his 20s.

When we spoke, Ocean was wrapping up the spring semester and ready to return home to Western Massachusetts.

I'm not much of a city slicker.

So I missed the sound of crickets.

I didn't realize there's no crickets in the city, my goodness.

And the sound of crickets, you know, alleviates your blood pressure because the crickets only sing when there's no predator around.

So I haven't heard a Donna cricket in months, so I'm waiting to hear.

You're safe. It's the sound of nature telling you, for now we're safe.

Yeah, yeah, I have a really robust community of folks in Western Mass and we have folks like really like making a life.

They're ready to kind of settle into something with longevity and care.

Your favorite poet, you might talk to them one day.

The next day, you might do a meal train for them because they've just had surgery or something.

It's very different than the city. The city is a great marketplace.

You know, many people can make here. I can't make here. I have to make somewhere else.

And then I bring my wares to the market.

And that's where it engages with the world.

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