As an "author," I am finding that the whole notion of autonomous time is pretty much a misnomer. Now, each new idea and paragraph becomes a cantilever, threatening to undermine the delicate balance of my layered, parallel and interwoven thoughts.
With poetry, interruptions are fairly manageable, as my poetic stints are generally short, sweet and intermittent. I can jot down quick little notes for later inclusion in a poem while I tend to other things.
And, I find that composing poems is more like playing with wisps of thought. I still need to weigh each word, sentence, and idea against the health of the whole, but it's tug on me is much less demanding.
Rather, I should say "tenacious," for when I'm in author mode, interruptions are instantly catastrophic, and promise to utterly destroy that next brilliant section that I was just about to pen!
Such, for me, is the difference between the poet brain and the author brain. So far, I've been able to continue in either mode, with a brief "Where was I," recap, provided that one has released me to the other.
Meanwhile, I have now taken my place in that great, wending queue, awaiting my turn to say, "I'll take that quaint, quiet cottage on the edge of the glad, if you please."