I Work Best In Rhyme

My Thoughts Are Crowded With Death And It Draws So Oddly On The Sexual That I Am Confused To Be Attracted By, In Effect, My Own Annihilation.

One Is Always Nearer By Not Keeping Still.

I Don't Know How To Sit Outside Myself And Test Against A Hypothetical Self Who Stayed Home.

I Don't Think Of Sex As A Self-destructive Impulse.

I'm Not Sure I Had Ever Written A Fan Letter Before To A Poet I Had Not Met, But That's What I Did When I Read Two Poems By Gregory Woods ... I Admired Them Especially For Their Technical Virtuosity, In That It Was Technique Completely Used, Never For The Sake Of Cleverness But As A Component Of Feeling ... What An Enviable Talent Gregory Woods Has