We Had Two Grand Antique Professors Who

Poetry Is A Phantom Script Telling How Rainbows Are Made And Why They Go Away.

Poetry Is Any Page From A Sketchbook Of Outlines Of A Doorknob With Thumb-prints Of Dust, Blood, Dreams.

The Marvelous Rebellion Of Man At All Signs Reading "keep Off.

The Dead Hold In Their Hands Only What They Have Given Away.

Poetry Is A Theorem Of A Yellow-silk Handkerchief Knotted With Riddles, Sealed In A Balloon Tied To The Tail Of A Kite Flying In A White Wind Against A Blue Sky In Spring.