We All Have A Hungry Heart, And

We Need Beauty Because It Makes Us Ache To Be Worthy Of It.

People Want Poetry. They Need Poetry. They Get It. They Don't Want Fancy Work.

I Feel The Terror Of Idleness, Like A Red Thirst. Death Isn't Just An Idea.

The Three Ingredients Of Poetry: The Mystery Of The Universe, Spiritual Curiosity, The Energy Of Language.

From The Complications Of Loving You I Think There Is No End Or Return. No Answer, No Coming Out Of It. Which Is The Only Way To Love, Isn't It? This Isn't A Playground, This Is Earth, Our Heaven, For A While. Therefore I Have Given Precedence To All My Sudden, Sullen, Dark Moods That Hold You In The Center Of My World. And I Say To My Body: Grow Thinner Still. And I Say To My Fingers, Type Me A Pretty Song. And I Say To My Heart: Rave On.