Words make love on the page like flies in the summer heat and the poet is only the bemused spectator.
The highest levels of consciousness are wordless.
Thereโs no preparation for poetry.
Poems are other people's snapshots in which we see our own lives.
In their effort to divorce language and experience, deconstructionist critics remind me of middle-class parents who do not allow their children to play in the street.
Only poetry can measure the distance between ourselves and the Other.