One Trouble With A Kind Of Falsely

I Got Married, Other People Went Off. We Had Sort Of Another Public-we Were Our Entire Readership For Many Years, And We Were Very Excited By Each Other.

It Seems Everything Is So Full Of Possibilities One Can Hardly Take It All In.

I've Had Trouble With Criticism, I Guess. It's Hard To Know What Role Criticism Plays In Either Encouraging Poets Or In Getting Other People To Read Them.

As I Look Over My Work, I Mean Every Time I Look Over My Early Work, I See, Yes, I Could Do That Then And Then I Could Do That And That... That May Be The Hardest Thing For A Writer, At Least For A Poet, To Tell What The Identity Of His Work Is.

When You Finish A Poem, It Clicks Shut Like The Top Of A Jewel Box, But Prose Is Endless. I Haven't Experienced An Awful Lot Of Clicking Shut!