Once In Awhile You Have A Thought,

Till I, High In The Tower Of My Time Among Familiar Ruins, Began To Cry For Accident, Sickness, Justice, War And Crime, Because All Died, Because I Had To Die. The Snow Fell, The Trees Stood, The Promise Kept, And A Child I Slept.

I've Thought Of The Last Line Of Some Poems For Years And Tried Them Out, It Wouldn't Work Because The Last Line Was Much Too Beautiful For The Poem.

History Is One Of Those Marvelous And Necessary Illusions We Have To Deal With. It's One Of The Ways Of Dealing With Our World With Impossible Generalities Which We Couldn't Live Without.

I Never Abandoned Either Forms Or Freedom. I Imagine That Most Of What Could Be Called Free Verse Is In My First Book. I Got Through That Fairly Early.

Write What You Know. That Should Leave You With A Lot Of Free Time.