It was a fantasy about the body.

I wrote a wound piece about empires.

I wrote a performance piece about being alive.

Sometimes when I travel I rewrite old stories, such as the The Burial of George W. Bush, which I wrote while travelling in a skin-colored outfit (very vulgar).


I write nation pieces in black face.

I sign a blank check for The USA.

I don’t use my real name.

I sign it “The Immigrant” or “The Idiot.”

Or sometimes I sign it “John Ashbery.”

I write poems and sign them “John Ashbery” and send them into the New Yorker.


They always publish them.

I pile up the poems on the ground when I write about media.

I’m Catholic.

Sometimes when I write novels, I dream about setting fire to a radio that is telling me about masks and violence.

I write hole pieces because I’m angry.

I write hole pieces because I’m in love.

I write pastoral pieces because I can hear the pigs being slaughtered.