until only infinity remained of beauty

How many people came and stayed a certain time, Uttered light or dark speech that became part of you Like light behind windblown fog and sand Filtered and influenced by it, until no part Remains that is surely you.

My feeling is that most political poetry is preaching to the choir, and that the people who are going to make the political changes in our lives are not the people who read poetry, unfortunately. Poetry not specifically aimed at political revolution, though, is beneficial in moving people toward that kind of action, as well as other kinds of action. A good poem makes me want to be active on as many fronts as possible.

Imagine a painter crucified by his subject!

In the increasingly convincing darkness The words become palpable, like a fruit That is too beautiful to eat.

The first year was like icing. Then the cake started to show through.

Part of the strength of Pollock and Rothko's art, in fact, is this doubt as to whether art may be there at all.