What keeps me writing is that I can only know through writing. My major sense organ is apparently a pencil.

The satisfactions/of agreement are/immediate as sugar--/a melting of the/granular, a syrup/that lingers, shared/not singular./Many prefer it.

The only real access that I have to my mind is when I'm writing.

Who would have guessed it possible that waiting is sustainable. A place with its own harvest.

Tenderness and Rot Tenderness and rot share a border. And rot is an aggressive neighbor whose iridescence keeps creeping over. No lessons can be drawn from this however. One is not two countries. One is not meat corrupting. It is important to stay sweet and loving.

Gaps don't/just happen./There is a/generative element/inside them,/a welling motion/ as when cold/waters shoulder/up through/warmer oceans./And where gaps/choose to widen,/coordinates warp,/even in places/constant since/the oldest maps.

Small presses take chances. Chances are at the heart of all the literature we later know as great.