... Where A Man's Wound Is, That

Every Modern Male Has, Lying At The Bottom Of His Psyche, A Large, Primitive Being Covered With Hair Down To His Feet. Making Contact With This Wild Man Is The Step The Eighties Male Or The Nineties Male Has Yet To Take. That Bucketing-out Process Has Yet To Begin In Our Contemporary Culture.

It's Good To Have Poems That Begin With Tea And End With God.

We Spend Our Life Until We’re Twenty Deciding What Parts Of Ourself To Put Into The Bag, And We Spend The Rest Of Our Lives Trying To Get Them Out Again.

One Day While Studying A Yeats Poem I Decided To Write Poetry The Rest Of My Life. I Recognized That A Single Short Poem Has Room For History, Music, Psychology, Religious Thought, Mood, Occult Speculation, Character, And Events Of One's Own Life. I Still Feel Surprised That Such Various Substances Can Find Shelter And Nourishment In A Poem. A Poem In Fact May Be A Sort Of Nourishing Liquid, Such As One Uses To Keep An Amoeba Alive. If Prepared Right, A Poem Can Keep An Image Or A Thought Or Insights On History Or The Psyche Alive For Years, As Well As Our Desires And Airy Impulses.

We Make The Path By Walking.