Pain Is A Forcing Sieve That Turns

I Have No Connections Here; Only Gusty Collisions, Rootless Seedlings Forced Into Bloom, That Collapse. ... I Am The Visiting Poet: A Real Unicorn, A Wind-up Plush Dodo, A Wax Museum Of The Movement. People Want To Push The Buttons And See Me Glow.

Only When We Break The Mirror And Climb Into Our Vision, Only When We Are The Wind Together Streaming And Singing, Only In The Dream We Become With Our Bones For Spears, We Are Real At Last And Wake.

We Are Trying To Live As If We Were An Experiment Conducted By The Future

Burning Dinner Is Not Incompetence But War.

I Think Having A Great Range Of Experiences In My Life Had Helped Me As A Writer, Particularly A Writer Of Fiction. I Have Known A Great Many Different Sorts Of People In Different Situations, And I Have A Notion How Very Well Of Badly People Can Behave In Times Of Stress Or Danger Or Violence.