Beware Of Advice-even This.

The Simple Dignity Of A Child Drinking A Bowl Of Milk Embodies The Fascination Of An Ancient Rite.

I Wrote Poems In My Corner Of The Brooks Street Station. I Sent Them To Two Editors Who Rejected Them Right Off. I Read Those Letters Of Rejection Years Later And I Agreed With Those Editors.

Poetry: A Sliver Of The Moon Lost In The Belly Of A Golden Frog.

Poetry Is A Diary Kept By A Sea Creature Who Lives On Land And Wishes He Could Fly.

Poetry Is An Art Practiced With The Terribly Plastic Material Of Human Language.