I Cry. Evil Dissolves, & Love, Like

I Didn't Want To Be Like Yeats; I Wanted To Be Yeats.

These Songs Are Not Meant To Be Understood, You Understand. They Are Only Meant To Terrify & Comfort.

Offering Dragons Quarter Is No Good, They Regrow All Their Parts And Come On Again. They Have To Be Killed.

You Should Always Be Trying To Write A Poem You Are Unable To Write, A Poem You Lack The Technique, The Language, The Courage To Achieve. Otherwise You're Merely Imitating Yourself, Going Nowhere, Because That's Always Easiest.

I Think That What Happens In My Poetic Work In The Future Will Depend On My Being Knocked In The Face, And Thrown Flat, And Given Cancer, And All Kinds Of Other Things Short Of Senile Dementia.