That Soldiers Do Terrible Things During Wartime

In My Experience, Whatever Happens Clings To Us Like Barnacles On The Hull Of A Ship, Slowing Us Slightly, Both Uglifying And Giving Us Texture. You Can Scrape All You Want, You Can, If You Have Money, Hire Someone Else To Scrape, But The Barnacles Will Come Back Or At Least Leave A Blemish On The Steel.

Some Part Of Me Knew He Would Show Up, That If I Stood In One Place Long Enough He Would Find Me, Like You're Taught To Do When You're Lost. But They Never Taught Us What To Do If Both Of You Are Lost, And You Both End Up In The Same Place, Waiting.

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

I Became An Electrician After High School. But I Always Had This Thing In Me To Write. But It Was Always A Little Shameful. To Say You Were A Poet Was Saying You Were Kind Of Crazy, And I Carried That Around For A Long Time. I Still Kind Of Carry That. And I Think It Might Be True, Actually.

Read As Much As You Can. Write Only When You Feel The Inner Need To Do So. And Don’t Ever Rush Into Print.