[t]eaching Has Been For Me

I've Never Read A Political Poem That's Accomplished Anything. Poetry Makes Things Happen, But Rarely What The Poet Wants.

Both Poet And Painter Want To Reach The Silence Behind The Language, The Silence Within The Language. Both Painter And Poet Want Their Work To Shine Not Only In Daylight But (by Whatever Illusionist Magic) From Within.

Religion And Science Both Profess Peace (and The Sincerity Of The Professors Is Not Being Doubted), But Each Always Turns Out To Have A Dominant Part In Any War That Is Going Or Contemplated.

Till I, High In The Tower Of My Time Among Familiar Ruins, Began To Cry For Accident, Sickness, Justice, War And Crime, Because All Died, Because I Had To Die. The Snow Fell, The Trees Stood, The Promise Kept, And A Child I Slept.

I Think There Was A Revolution In Poetry, Associated Chiefly With Eliot And Pound; But Maybe It Is Of The Nature Of Revolutions Or Of The Nature Of History That Their Innovations Should Later Come To Look Trivial Or Indistinguishable From Technical Tricks.