Even A Polemic Has Some Justification If

From The Night, His Solitude, The Poet Finds Day And Starts A Diary That Is Lethal To The Inert. The Dark Landscape Yields A Dialogue.

The Poet's Other Readers Are The Ancient Poets, Who Look Upon The Freshly Written Pages From An Incorruptible Distance. Their Poetic Forms Are Permanent, And It Is Difficult To Create New Forms Which Can Approach Them.

Poetry Is Also The Physical Self Of The Poet, And It Is Impossible To Separate The Poet From His Poetry.

An Exact Poetic Duplication Of A Man Is For The Poet A Negation Of The Earth, An Impossibility Of Being, Even Though His Greatest Desire Is To Speak To Many Men, To Unite With Them By Means Of Harmonious Verses About The Truths Of The Mind Or Of Things.

As The Poet Has Expected, The Alarms Now Are Sounded, For - And It Must Be Said Again - The Birth Of A Poet Is Always A Threat To The Existing Cultural Order, Because He Attempts To Break Through The Circle Of Literary Castes To Reach The Center.