Time is the metre, memory the only plot.
The first thing we have to do is get rid of the pentameter. To ditch the pentameter.
I know when dark-haired evening put on her bright silk at sunset, and, folding the sea sidled under the sheet with her starry laugh, that there'd be no rest, there'd be no forgetting. Is like telling mourners round the graveside about resurrection, they want the dead back.
I try to forget what happiness was, and when that don't work, I study the stars.
You can't write drunk.
The truest writers are those who see language not as a linguistic process but as a living element.