...pleasure, of course, is a slippery word.... Our pleasures ultimately belong to us, not to the pleasure's source.

You will always be the bread and the knife, not to mention the crystal goblet and—somehow—the wine.

I write with a Uni-Ball Onyx Micropoint on nine-by-seven bound notebooks made by a Canadian company called Blueline. After I do a few drafts, I type up the poem on a Macintosh G3 and then send it out the door.

I think clarity is the real risk in poetry because you are exposed. You're out in the open field. You're actually saying things that are comprehensible, and it's easy to criticize something you can understand.

In the process of simplifying oneself, one often discovers the thing called voice.

Bugs Bunny is my muse.

No one here likes a wet dog.