“Lately I’ve been thinking about beauty, as I state in my poem ‘Eduardo’, beauty especially in relation to violence and the grotesque. Why does violence so often sharpen what we understand as beautiful, typically in retrospect, as after deep loss? As an artist, what are my obligations in locating the beautiful even within the absurd or unclean or sexually crude, as in the poem ‘After Hours at The Wok’ where Mike is both celebrated and critiqued, I hope, for his display of bravado? Or as the bird, the old queen in ‘Eduardo’ does, turning that filth to music?”
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