A Poet Needs To Keep His Wilderness

Some Poems Present Themselves As Cliffs That Need To Be Climbed. Others Are So Defensive That When You Approach Their Enclosure You Half Expect To Be Met By A Snarling Dog At The Gate. Still Others Want To Smother You With Their Sticky Charms.

I Dance/for The Joy Of Surviving, At The Edge Of The Road.

The Unconscious Creates, The Ego Edits.

A Poem Has Secrets That The Poet Knows Nothing Of.

The First Task Of The Poet Is To Create The Person Who Will Write The Poems.