Art is why I get up in the morning, but my definition ends there.

There's this brutal imperial power, that my passport says I represent. But it will never represent where my heart lives, only vaguely where it went.

I am still praying for revolution.

We're led by denial like lambs to slaughter, serving empires of style and carbonated sugar water.

My writing just kind of exists out there in the air-it's all sort of intended as spoken, or sung, word. So, to commit them to the page...that way was kind of intimidating to me, yet intriguing, to try to reflect the rhythms and connotations and emotions that you can deliver, speaking-wise, on a page.

People need something or someone to fasten themselves to in order to reassure themselves that they are real.

I don't always feel lucky, but I'm smart enough to try.