One reason to write a poem is to flush from the deep thickets of the self some thought, feeling, comprehension, question, music, you didn't know was in you, or in the world.
No other human being, no woman, no poem or music, book or painting can replace alcohol in its power to give man the illusion of real creation.
I shall try to write a poem that is about the moment but doesn't betray things that are true to me as a poet.
The only real evidence that any critic may bring before his gaze is the finished poem.
I was writing poems when I was young, you know, because my father was a poet, so it was absolutely normal to follow my father.
Come windless invader I am a carnival of Stars, a poem of blood.
Indeed, I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.
I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.
...make a poem that does not disturb the silence from which it came." Wendell Berry
The Sunlight on the Garden The sunlight on the garden Hardens and grows cold, We cannot cage the minute Within its nets of gold, When all is told We cannot beg for pardon. Our freedom as free lances Advances towards its end; The earth compels, upon i...
You, yesterday’s boy, to whom confusion came: Listen, lest you forget who you are. It was not pleasure you fell into. It was joy. You were called to be bridegroom, though the bride coming toward you is your shame. What chose you is the great desire...
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow’d to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the...
I still wake longing for your touch Skin open wound raw because I was told that's the only way to heal. I couldn't tame you you weren't meant for domestication meant to roam free but I still remember the first time you said "I love you" a whisper bar...
Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd the earth much? Have you practis'd so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poe...
Poems, even when narrative, do not resemble stories. All stories are about battles, of one kind or another, which end in victory or defeat. Everything moves towards the end, when the outcome will be known. Poems, regardless of any outcome, cross the ...
I am often asked by editors, fans, friends about what I read or which authors influence my writing. My answer seems surprising to them, for people expect names and quotes from me, while I give them the source of "feelings". I believe that becoming a ...
She winced and covered her ears as Eric,onstage, wrestled with his microphone. "Sorry about that, guys!" he yelled. "All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'" He screwed up his face as if in p...
Tomorrow she’d look up tattoo removal. They were doing big things with lasers now. When Cal was just a little more stable, she’d break up with him, gently, and then she’d begin her project of helping everybody she could help, and after that she...
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell Of saddest thought.
It is strange how often a heart must be broken Before the years can make it wise.
