My Mother Never Forgave My Father

When They Shall Paint Our Sockets Gray And Light Us Like A Stinking Fuse, Remember That We Once Could Say, Yesterday We Had A World To Lose.

Memory Is Each Man's Poet-in-residence.

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

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

A Poet Needs To Keep His Wilderness Alive Inside Him.