You Are Bound, My Hunch Is, To

To Say That Its Wrong To Feel This Way Is Not The Point; You Do Feel It. All You See Is A Flash Of Fire And, Depending On Your Altitude, You Don't Even See That Sometimes.

I Want A Fever, In Poetry: A Fever, And Tranquillity.

Find Out What You Do Best, And Then Don't Do It.

I Want You To Hear A New Version Of Dueling Banjos. Anyone Else Is Welcome.

Then You Develop A Kind Of Critical Sense About What You Write. You Can Tell When Something Is Good, But It Would Be Just As Good In Somebody Else's Work Too. You Want To Hold Out For Those Things Only You Can Say.