I wouldn’t give ten gallons of my own piss for clear sentence that gives the sense of a tree as a tree, when I revel in the nonsense of its being my own Grandfather, a...

Being there doesn’t mean I’m present. I exist only in words. I want to be transmuted fully to white page and ink.

Metaphor is a slippery eel, if it wasn’t for its shock I’d stick to the easy catch of prose.

A poem without metaphor is a gelding; useless to nightmares.

Freedom of speech is not only the right to say as you please, it is also the right to have what you say contested, and where it does not accord with reason – refuted, or...

I was born with my eyes turned inward.