I Think Of Myself As Writing For

Think Of Innocent Icarus Who Is Doing Quite Well: Larger Than A Sail, Over The Fog And The Blast Of The Plushy Ocean, He Goes. Admire His Wings!

O Yellow Eye, Let Me Be Sick With Your Heat, Let Me Be Feverish And Frowning.

It Doesn't Matter Who My Father Was; It Matters Who I Remember He Was.

Women Are Born Twice.

I Hoard Books. They Are People Who Do Not Leave.