Forests may be gorgeous but there is nothing more alive than a tree that learns how to grow in a cemetery.
Poetry is a process of getting back to the unconscious. Hence, I am always writing-even when I'm not facing the white space. I feel writers are like reservoirs of images. We take in what is around us.
There’s plenty that poetry cannot do. But the miracle, of course, is how much it can do, how much it does do.
Poetry today is easier to write but harder to remember.
[My poetry is] a way of coming to grips with reality. . . a way of discovery and definition. It is a way of solving for the unknowns.
You've got to love libraries. You've got to love books. You've got to love poetry. You've got to love everything about literature. Then, you can pick the one thing you love most and write about it.
Science is the poetry of reality.
Poetry, like sanctity, is the orchestration of multiple attributes into vast, compelling wholes.
The cliche is dead poetry.
Public toilets have a duty to be accessible, poetry does not.
Screw poetry, it’s you I want, your taste, rain on you, mouth on your skin.
You may rely on it that you have the best of me in my books, and that I am not worth seeing personally, the stuttering, blunderingclod-hopper that I am. Even poetry, you know, is in one sense an infinite brag and exaggeration. Not that I do not stand on all that I have written,--but what am I to the truth I feebly utter?
All poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.
Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
And me happiest when I compose poems: Love, power, the huzza of battle are something, are much: yet a poem includes them like a pool water and reflection.
Love is the reality, and poetry is the drum.
For me, poetry is an impish attempt to paint the colour of the wind.
Poets, come out of your closets, Open your windows, open your doors, You have been holed up too long in your closed worlds. . . Poetry should transport the publicto higher placesthan other wheels can carry it.
Poetry is the purest form of insanity.
Poetry's object is truth.