Every Artist Creates With Open Eyes What

Every Poet Has A Certain Amount Of "stuff." That's What You Draw From For Imagery. The More Stuff You Know Well, Not Simply Intellectually But Sensually, Emotionally, Intimately, The Wider The Pool From Which You Draw.

A New Idea Is Rarely Born Like Venus Attended By Graces. More Commonly It's Modeled Of Baling Wire And Acne. More Commonly It Wheezes And Tips Over.

The Will To Be Totally Rational Is The Will To Be Made Out Of Glass And Steel: And To Use Others As If They Were Glass And Steel.

Purple As Tulips In May, Mauve Into Lush Velvet, Purple As The Stain Blackberries Leave On The Lips, On The Hands, The Purple Of Ripe Grapes Sunlit And Warm As Flesh.

The Work Of The World Is Common As Mud. Botched, It Smears The Hands, Crumbles To Dust. But The Thing Worth Doing Well Done Has A Shape That Satisfies, Clean And Evident.