The Poem Comes In The Form Of

I Dropped My Hoe And Ran Into The House And Started To Write This Poem, 'end Of Summer.’ It Began As A Celebration Of Wild Geese. Eventually The Geese Flew Out Of The Poem, But I Like To Think They Left Behind The Sound Of Their Beating Wings.

Certainly The Modern Poets I Cherish Most Are Disturbing Spirits; They Do Not Come To Coo.

Poetry Is The Enemy Of The Poem.

In A Murderous Time/the Heart Breaks And Breaks/and Lives By Breaking.

A Longing For The Dance Stirs In The Buried Life.