An Old Poet Ought Never To Be

I Want To Write Poems That Are Natural, Luminous, Deep, Spare. I Dream Of An Art So Transparent That You Can Look Through And See The World.

...few Young Poets [are] Testing Their Poems Against The Ear. They're Writing For The Page, And The Page, Let Me Tell You, Is A Cold Bed.

Some Poems Present Themselves As Cliffs That Need To Be Climbed. Others Are So Defensive That When You Approach Their Enclosure You Half Expect To Be Met By A Snarling Dog At The Gate. Still Others Want To Smother You With Their Sticky Charms.

A Poem Has Secrets That The Poet Knows Nothing Of.

Poetry Is The Enemy Of The Poem.