I Never Thought Of Myself As A

I Thought, 'there Are A Lot Of Poets Who Have The Courage To Look Into The Abyss, But There Are Very Few Who Have The Courage To Look Happiness In The Face And Write About It,' Which Is What I Wanted To Be Able To Do.

One Trouble With A Kind Of Falsely Therapeutic And Always Reassuring Attitude That It Is Easy To Fall Into With Old People, Is The Tendency To Be Satisfied With Too Little.

All Poetry Comes From Repetition.

Certainly, It Seems True Enough That There's A Good Deal Of Irony In The World... I Mean, If You Live In A World Full Of Politicians And Advertising, There's Obviously A Lot Of Deception.

This Rose Became A Bandanna, Which Became A House, Which Became Infused With All Passion, Which Became A Hideaway, Which Became Yes I Would Like To Have Dinner, Which Became Hands, Which Became Lands, Shores, Beaches, Natives On The Stones, Staring And Wild Beasts In The Trees, Chasing The Hats Of Lost Hunters, And All This Deserves A Tone.