Children, To Be Illustrious Is Sad.

Both Poet And Painter Want To Reach The Silence Behind The Language, The Silence Within The Language. Both Painter And Poet Want Their Work To Shine Not Only In Daylight But (by Whatever Illusionist Magic) From Within.

When In Still Air And Still In Summertime A Leaf Has Had Enough Of This, It Seems To Make Up Its Mind To Go; Fine As A Sage Its Drifting In Detachment Down The Road.

We Think About Sex Obsessively Except During The Act, When Our Minds Tend To Wander.

Why Are Stamps Adorned With Kings And Presidents? That We May Lick Their Hinder Parts And Thump Their Heads.

I Never Abandoned Either Forms Or Freedom. I Imagine That Most Of What Could Be Called Free Verse Is In My First Book. I Got Through That Fairly Early.