My Mother Never Forgave My Father

In A Murderous Time/the Heart Breaks And Breaks/and Lives By Breaking.

To Conquer A Piece Of Earth And Make It As Beautiful As One Can Dream Of It Being: That Is Art, Too. A Man Cannot Be Separated From The Earth. I Come Out Of The Garden Every Day Feeling, Oh, Inspired In A Way That One Needs In Order To Convert The Daily-ness Of The Life Into Something Greater Than That Little Life Itself.

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.

Certainly The Modern Poets I Cherish Most Are Disturbing Spirits; They Do Not Come To Coo.

Live In The Layers, Not On The Litter.