Things go away to return, brightened for the passage

The white sun like a moth on a string circles the southpole.

Probably all the attention to poetry results in some value, though the attention is more often directed to lesser than to greater values

Each poem in becoming generates the laws by which it is generated: extensions of the laws to other poems never completely take.

Everything is discursive opinion instead of direct experience.

The poet exposes himself to the risk. All that has been said about poetry, all that he has learned about poetry, is only a partial assurance.

What destruction have I been blessed by?