Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance.
And what of the dead? They lie without shoes in the stone boats. They are more like stone than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.
... man is eating the earth up like a candy bar.
Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.
Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.
One of my secret instructions to myself as a poet is "Whatever you do, don't be boring."