Something unpronounceable followed by a long silence points out my life is becoming a landscape.
I hated childhood / I hate adulthood / And I love being alive.
In the end I would rather wonder than know
A poem is a neutrino - mainly nothing - it has no mass and can pass through the earth undetected.
Metaphor is not, and never has been, a mere literary term. It is an event.
[On filling out a grant application:] I seek an extended period of time, free from all distractions, so that I might be free to be distracted.