Death Is What Makes Life Fun.

I See All Of Us Reading Ourselves Away From Ourselves, Straining In Circles Of Light To Find More Light Until The Line Of Words Becomes A Trail Of Crumbs That We Follow Across A Page Of Fresh Snow.

I Felt At Some Point That I Had Nothing To Lose, And [laughs] Maybe I Was Wrong. I Think, You Know, There's Always These Little Autobiographical Secrets Behind Things. I Think I Was Really Attacking My Earlier Self, And This Kind Of Pretentious Figure.

...pleasure, Of Course, Is A Slippery Word.... Our Pleasures Ultimately Belong To Us, Not To The Pleasure's Source.

I See The Progress Typical In Some Of My Poems As Starting With Something Simple And Moving Into Something More Demanding. This Is Certainly The Pattern Of Weird Poetry.

I See Woefully Obscure Poetry As Simply A Kind Of Verbal Rudeness.