I'm Seventy-one Now, So It's

Some Things You Know All Your Life. They Are So Simple And True They Must Be Said Without Elegance, Meter And Rhyme...they Must Be Naked And Alone, They Must Stand For Themselves.

I Say, Father, The Years Have Brought Me Here, Still Your Son, They Have Brought Me To A Life I Cannot Understand.

Meet Some People Who Care About Poetry The Way You Do. You'll Have That Readership. Keep Going Until You Know You're Doing Work That's Worthy. And Then See What Happens. That's My Advice.

My Sense Of A Poem - My Notion Of How You Revise - Is: You Get Yourself Into A State Where What You Are Intensely Conscious Of Is Not Why You Wrote It Or How You Wrote It, But What You Wrote.

I'm Afraid We Live At The Mercy Of A Power, Maybe A God, Without Mercy. And Yet We Find It, As I Have, From Others.