Both Poet And Painter Want To Reach

The Only Way Out Is The Way Through, Just As You Cannot Escape Death Except By Dying. Being Unable To Write, You Must Examine In Writing This Being Unable, Which Becomes For The Present -henceforth?- The Subject To Which You Are Condemned.

When Robert Frost Was Alive, I Was Known As The Other New England Poet, Which Is To Be Barely Known At All.

History Is Where Tensions Were.

That So Much Of Our Experience, Or The Stereotype Which Passes For It Should Be Dealt With By Means Of The Short Story Is Perhaps A Symptom Not Unnoticeable Elsewhere In The Public Domain Of An Unlovely Cynicism About Human Character.

Mostly The Thought And The Verse Come Inseparably. In My Poem Poetics, It's As Close As I Come To Telling How I Do It.