In Our Rags Of Light, All Dressed

The Art Of Longing's Over, And It's Never Coming Back.

Be With Me In The Phases Of My Work Because My Brain Feels Like It Has Been Whipped And I Yearn To Make A Small Perfect Thing Which Will Live In Your Morning Like Curious Static Through A President's Elegy Or A Nude Hunchback Acquiring A Tan On The Crowded Oily Beach.

I Don't Have Any Spiritual Strategy.

I Alwaysthought Of Myself As A Competent, Minor Poet. I Know Who I'm Up Against.

You Say I Took The Name In Vain I Don't Even Know The Name But If I Did, Well Really, What's It To You? There's A Blaze Of Light In Every Word It Doesn't Matter Which You Heard The Holy Or The Broken Hallelujah