Bugs Bunny Is My Muse.

Another Trouble With Poetry - And I'm Gonna Stop The List At Two - Is The Presence Of Presumptuousness In Poetry, The Sense You Get In A Poem That The Poet Takes For Granted An Interest On The Reader's Part In The Poet's Autobiographical Life, In The Poet's Memories, Problems, Difficulties And Even Minor Perceptions.

You Will Always Be The Bread And The Knife, Not To Mention The Crystal Goblet And—somehow—the Wine.

I Think The Pleasure Of Form Is That You Have A Companion With You Besides All The Poetry You Have Ever Read.

I Find It Strange That - At Least In My Take On It - The People Who Are The Most Alarmed About The Dire Times We Live In Are The Ones Who Seem To Be Humorless, In Their Taste For Poetry Anyway. Humor Is Just An Ingredient. It's Always Been In Poetry. It Kind Of Dropped Out Of Poetry I Think During The 19th And Up To The Mid-twentieth Century. But It's Found Its Way Back. And It's Simply An Ingredient.

I Just Think That The World Of Workshops - I've Written A Poem That Is A Parody Of Workshop Talk, I've Written A Poem That Is A Kind Of Parody Of A Garrulous Poet At A Poetry Reading Who Spends An Inordinate Amount Of Time Explaining The Poem Before Reading It, I've Written A Number Of Satirical Poems About Other Poets.