The Mechanics of Language, or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Fragment

lettersandlight: When I was a kid, I had a friend who wrote constantly. Every day—usually prose poetry. This kid knew how to write. He wrote phrases I still remember off the top of my head. Sentences like: “Maybe the future is a firework.” Words that, when strung together, bristled with surrealism and action. But he...