I’m definitely methodical and imagine the metaphor as building paper mâché. I have these delicate sentences that layer atop each other until there’s something solid.

I’m deeply committed to not knowing what kind of writer I am. I rely on spontaneity and my habits change constantly. In that way I hope I’m evading stale, pat poems.

“To some of us who sat with Mike at lunch every day, Shit Plate felt like a good thing that we were doing, like charity work.”

“This was true, but the dogs whose bowls I filled only just outnumbered those I injected with pentobarbital, running my hands along their backs as their eyes filmed over, just the way a skin of ice settles still and foggy overtop the glossy water of the creek.”