... Sometimes I Can Feel It, The

Who Wants To Put Together Something That Will Bear Some Relationship To The Vision Or Memory Or Experience Or Story Or Idea Or Dream Or Whatever.

It Is Forbidden To Love Where We Are Not Loved

I'm Not Asking A Poem To Carry A Lot Of Rocks In Its Pockets. Just Being An Ordinary Observer And Liver And Feeler And Letting The Experience Get Through You Onto The Notebook With The Pen, Through The Arm, Out Of The Body, Onto The Page, Without Distortion.

This Creature Of The Poem May Assemble Itself Into A Being With Its Own Centrifugal Force.

Everyone Is So Different. I Sometimes Wish I Wrote In A Different Way. You Know, That Feeling Of: So-and-so Writes Slowly, If Only I Wrote Slowly.