I sent a picture to Pantea of me as a
four or five year old boy in Robstown Texas. I was telling her, that’s me. This is me.
I was a poet at five but the world turned me into something else.
In order to get through this world I had to become something else. I had to be a
little meaner sometimes, I had to be a little kinder sometimes. So why are you writing? You know, that’s
the question I was asking. Why are you doing this? Why go to all the trouble of being published and making a book? Because you want to be remembered, you want to— hopefully you will make someone
else’s life a little easier for something that you did, said or wrote.