I Work Best In Rhyme And Meter.

I Had Assumed That I Would Age With All My Friends Growing Old Around Me, Dying Off Very Gradually One By One. And Here Was A Plague That Cut Them Off So Early.

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 Think Most Men, Heterosexual And Homosexual, Enjoy Being Considered Sexual Objects.

Deep Feeling Doesn't Make For Good Poetry. A Way With Language Would Be A Bit Of Help.