I won’t lie—I am seven months behind in my National Geographic subscription. It’s not that I’m okay with letting things pile up. There’s just so much demand on my time. It’s a problem, but it only affects me. What am I to the big, wide world? Even still, I try to keep up. National Geographic... Continue Reading →
[Scrawled on the steps of 46 Gordon Square, London, England, April 2014] Dearest Vergie, It may please you to know I took some time out of my busy itinerary today to visit you in Bloomsbury. I rang, but you must have missed the bell. that’s okay, most of us won’t even have well-wishers... Continue Reading →
"I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us…we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A BOOK MUST BE THE AXE... Continue Reading →
When they said kill your darlings they didn't explain how they would only ask about the rabbits so I said ok, maybe we can just stay here for a while so I stretched & scratched my head & bled & waited waited until they said "look what you made us do we... Continue Reading →
I don't particularly like to write in books. I know people who keep Foster Wallace footnotes in the margins of all their books. Like most things, I have an exception: my Nietzsche books. They are fair game. Friedrich Nietzsche's works, when not aphorisms, are dense--they are difficult to scan. I read and re-read Nietzsche, the... Continue Reading →
Do you take all your poems out ‘round back? Fantasize about them during teleconferences? Sketch them from memory by candlelight when the wind sounds like orgasmic gasps? Does your blood burst in your genitals when you feel the line break? Do you try to conjure their smell and end up hyperventilating? Tell me, do you... Continue Reading →
"More than anything else I do, I don’t show up."
How to write a poetry chapbook: Fill seven notebooks with longhand poems for eleven years Tear out your best heart-pounding words Lay them on the floor Let them tell you a pathetic story Then collate accordingly in proper manuscript format the way William Shunn likes it Douse in diesel... Continue Reading →