I Work Best In Rhyme And Meter.

Direct Me Gods, Whose Changes Are All Holy, To Where It Flickers Deep In Grass, The Moly.

My Thoughts Are Crowded With Death And It Draws So Oddly On The Sexual That I Am Confused To Be Attracted By, In Effect, My Own Annihilation.

I Deliberately Wrote A Poem In My Last Book Where I Was Suggesting That There Are Other Passions As Great As Or More Important Than The Passion Of Sex.

As Humans We Look At Things And Think About What We've Looked At. We Treasure It In A Kind Of Private Art Gallery.

I Deliberately Decided To Write A Kind Of Guide To Leather Bars For Straight People, For People Not Into Leather, So That People Could See What It Was All About.