That Soldiers Do Terrible Things

I Believe Poetry Has Very Little To Do With Memory.

What You Fear Your Whole Life Comes To Pass. You End Up Living Toward It, You Spend Your Life Running From It But Your Foot Is Nailed To The Sidewalk. You Circle Around It Until You Wear Yourself Own.

Writers, Especially Poets, Are Particularly Prone To Madness.

I Offer Emily Half Of My Hit Of Acid- Love Saves The Day. It's My Second Or Third Time Tripping, Emily's First, And She's Understandably Trepid. Awake All Night, At One Point I Find Her Touching Her Reflection In A Cruelly Lit Dorm Bathroom, Asking If She'll Ever Be The Same. I Kiss Her Then For The First Time And Whisper, No.

If You're Going To Write About Someone's Life, You Don't Just Use Them For Wallpaper. You Have To Honor And Respect That Life.