The whole process of getting a book published is just part of the process. The last of the process that I enjo

Most people are trying to go digital, and trying to do different things with poetry. McSweeney's is going in the opposite direction - going more classic, and retro, which is all coming back.

I was sort of obsessed about corporate people committing suicide.

Sometimes I feel like I'm on top of the world, and other mornings I feel like crap.

I can't help but go against the grain, I suppose it is in my fabric to be a rule-breaker.

I am always reading, always, and tons of things at once. I wouldn't say I'm a voracious reader, though. I never finish books that fast, because I'm always reading so many things at once.

I think my way of being "funny" is just saying things that people think but have learned not to say, whereas, I haven't learned not to say them.

There's an attraction to emotional clusters or hypocrisies or awkwardness. A desire to expose something or point at something that's already poking out.

I feel like I give myself all day long to other people and other things, and I still seem like I have something to write once in awhile. Not often, though.

I think I've always felt very isolated, and I'm sure lots of poets do.

I think e-mail and social media and all that has made me feel way less isolated than ever before.

At what point does "one day" become today?

In the future, violence would clearly become a valuable form of social cement.

Improving your life doesn’t have to be about changing everything – it’s about making changes that count.

I think you judge yourself too severely, a quality that always distinguishes people of true worth.

She believed that owning a lots of things made you a better person. She didn't know - possibly didn't want to know - that happiness comes from the inside.

If people are looking for someone who has never changed their mind and is unwilling to admit they make mistakes, that's not me.

I didn't want it to be a book that made pronouncements.

Above, the stars shone hard and bright, sparks struck off the dark skin of the universe.

Everything we look upon is blest.

I've had to remove all mirrors from my home. I just can't seem to look at myself without having to buff the bishop, you know?