I Like An Ending That's Both A

How Shall The Heart Be Reconciled / To Its Feast Of Losses?

One Critic Wrote . . . That My Poems Sounded As Though They Had Been Translated From The Hungarian. I Don't Know Why, But Somehow That Made Me Feel Quite Lighthearted.

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

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.

End With An Image And Don't Explain.