In Pynchonesque fashion he declines public comment on his work. In an interview this morning he claimed not to remember Ggfddfg at all – a poem hammered singlefingeredly on a typewriter in the basement at age three, when he was supposed to be helping his father fold the laundry, although he always manages to blow off this chore, but his father is not too bitter about art superseding labor, no, no, that’s fine, art is important. (bios/2003)