Who Has Enough Credit In This World

We Are A Most Solitary People, And We Live, Repelled By One Another, In The Gray, Outcast Cities Of Cain.

Look At This Poet William Carlos Williams: He Is Primitive And Native, And His Roots Are In Raw Forest And Violent Places; He Is Word-sick And Place-crazy. He Admires Strength, But For What? Violence! This Is The Cult Of The Frontier Mind.

Man Is At The Nadir Of His Stregth When The Earth, The Seas, The Mountains Are Not In Him, For Without Them His Soul Is Unsourced, And He Has No Images By Which To Abide.

A Man Who Can Be Entertaining For A Full Day Will Be In His Grave By Night-fall.

The Bad Poet Is A Toady Mimicking Nature.