I Work Best In Rhyme And Meter.

Direct Me Gods, Whose Changes Are All Holy, To Where It Flickers Deep In Grass, The Moly.

Thus For Each Blunt-faced Ignorant One The Great Grey Rigid Uniform Combined Safety With Virtue Of The Sun. Thus Concepts Linked Like Chainmail In The Mind.

We Tend To Put Poems Into Factions. And It Restricts Our Reading.

Deep Feeling Doesn't Make For Good Poetry. A Way With Language Would Be A Bit Of Help.

I Notice That Students, Particularly For Gay Students, It's Too Easy To Write About My Last Trick Or Something. It's Not Very Interesting To The Reader.