For I Now Realize That What Overcame

I Don't Really Feel My Poems Are Mine At All. I Didn't Create Them Out Of Nothing. I Owe Them To My Relations With Other People.

Poetry Began In The Matriarchal Age, And Derives Its Magic From The Moon, Not From The Sun. No Poet Can Hope To Understand The Nature Of Poetry Unless He Has Had A Vision Of The Naked King Crucified To The Lopped Oak, And Watched The Dancers, Red-eyed From The Acrid Smoke Of The Sacrificial Fires, Stamping Out The Measure Of The Dance, Their Bodies Bent Uncouthly Forward, With A Monotonous Chant Of "kill! Kill! Kill!" And "blood! Blood! Blood!

I Revise The Manuscript Till I Can't Read It Any Longer, Then I Get Somebody To Type It. Then I Revise The Typing. Then It's Retyped Again. Then There's A Third Typing, Which Is The Final One. Nothing Should Then Remain That Offends The Eye.

Though Philosophers Like To Define Poetry As Irrational Fancy, For Us It Is Practical, Humorous, Reasonable Way Of Being Ourselves.

Fact Is Not Truth, But A Poet Who Wilfully Defies Fact Cannot Achieve Truth.