I Work Best In Rhyme And Meter.

How Sociable The Garden Was. We Ate And Talked In Given Light. The Children Put Their Toys To Grass All The Warm Wakeful August Night.

The Painter Saw What Was, An Alternate Candor And Secrecy Inside The Skin.

I Notice That Students, Particularly For Gay Students, It's Too Easy To Write About My Last Trick Or Something. It's Not Very Interesting To The Reader.

I Deliberately Wrote A Poem In My Last Book Where I Was Suggesting That There Are Other Passions As Great As Or More Important Than The Passion Of Sex.

I Don't Know How To Sit Outside Myself And Test Against A Hypothetical Self Who Stayed Home.