There Are Many Ways To

By The Time I'm Nine I Know The World Is A Dangerous Place. I've Heard Whispers About Razorblades In Apples, About Charlie Manson And His Family. But No One Is Offering Any Clear Information.

I Believe Poetry Has Very Little To Do With Memory.

We Got Him To Talk To A Psych Doctor Once, The Doctor Asked If He Heard Things Other People Don't. Sure, Paul Answered, I Hear Birds In The Morning When Everyone's Sleeping, I Hear Trees Rustling When No One's Around.

Who Doesn't Want To Just Disappear, At Some Point In The Day, In A Year, To Just Step Off The Map And Float?

There Is A Physics To The World, Which Non-fiction Has A Contract To Stand In Awe Of, Otherwise It Becomes Completely Self-centered And Ego-driven, Which Is The Death Of A Memoir.