I think because my parents died in their early 50s, mid 50s, I always thought I would die young. And that's been both a useful thing and I suspect something that's haunted me a little bit.

When I stop becoming, that's when I worry.

All good poems are victories over something.

I've tried to become someone else for a while, only to discover that he, too, was me.

I’ve had it with all stingy-hearted sons of bitches. A heart is to be spent.

I make myself up from everything I am, or could be. For many years I was more desire than fact. When I stop becoming, that’s when I worry.

Isn't there a curious elegance in how one moment passes into another?