There Are Two Versions To Every Poem

To Me, Poetry Is Somebody Standing Up, So To Speak, And Saying, With As Little Concealment As Possible, What It Is For Him Or Her To Be On Earth At This Moment

Thats The Way It Is With Poetry: When It Is Incomprehensible It Seems Profound, And When You Understand It, It Is Only Ridiculous.

The Only Sense We Still Respect Is Eyesight, Probably Because It Is So Closely Attached To The Brain. Go Into Any American House At Random, You Will Find Something - A Plastic Flower, False Tiles, Some Imitation Something - Something Which Can Be Appreciated As Material Only If Apprehended By Eyesight Alone. Don't We Go Sightseeing In Cars, Thinking We Can Experience A Landscape By Looking At It Through Glass?

Perhaps Poetry Will Be The Canary In The Mine-shaft Warning Us Of What's To Come.

Kiss The Mouth Which Tells You, Here, Here Is The World. This Mouth. This Laughter. These Temple Bones.