Poets... Are Literal-minded Men Who

History, Like A Badly Constructed Concert Hall, Has Occasional Dead Spots Where The Music Can't Be Heard.

Poetry Is The Art Of Understanding What It Is To Be Alive.

The Roots Of The Grass Strain, Tighten, The Earth Is Rigid, Waits-he Is Waiting- And Suddenly, And All At Once, The Rain!

Piety's Hard Enough To Take Among The Poor Who Have To Practice It. A Rich Man's Piety Stinks. It's Insufferable.

If The Art Of Poetry Is?the Art Of Making Sense Of The Chaos Of Human Experience, It's Not A Bad Thing To See A Lot Of Chaos.