I guess my poems feel to me a bit like they are doing something in relation to experience, i.e. time.

Always in search of the question that might make you ask me one in return

I see sad crushed plastic everywhere and put some thoughts composed of words that do not belong together together and feel a little digital hope.

This, in the end, might be the greatest social good of poetry: to get us to live differently, with a different sort of thinking and concentration, even if it's just for a few moments.

All my closest friends came to me through poetry. My wife, too! Other than my family, poetry is the gravitational force of my life.

That choice to be ready to reject all other purposes, in favor of the possibilities of language freed from utility, is when the writer becomes a poet.

So for whatever reason those short lines just felt right to me, in my physical self. They were right for the movement of the poems. Some poems in the book have longer lines.

Miroslav Holub seems to expect his readers to act like scientists, who are curious in every direction, take nothing for granted, and are willing to accept any truth, however unexpected.

Somewhere back a whiskey or so ago I wrote that thinking was a real thing in the world, just like anything else. I mean that very literally, materially. And it's true about poems, too.

I feel because I am never in my comfort zone I have an advantage.

I don't know if anyone has ever mentioned this, we need to be careful with drugs! They're not just all fun and games! And of course poetry would be immeasurably worse without humor.

When you build a wall to protect yourself against one person be warned--everyone is now out there except for you.

REALITY, n. The dream of a mad philosopher. That which would remain in the cupel if one should assay a phantom. The nucleus of a vacuum.

Our willingness to be used as God's vessels can make His Father-heart a reality to our hurting world.

When you're fired, you're rejected. It's as simple as that.

What Cicero said of men-that they are like wines, age souring the bad, and bettering the good-we can say of misfortune, that it has the same effect upon them.

I am freaking out! I am freaking out, man!

I have a curious background for someone who turns out to be a writer.

Bikes are clearly a superior form of transportation when it comes to just simple getting around. A car makes sense if you need to carry a bunch of stuff.

You would have to be half-mad to dream me up.

It matters not where you live, or what rank of life you hold, the evil or the blessing will reach you all.