Keelhaul the poets in the vestry chairs.
Poetry is not a way of saying things; it's a way of seeing things.
Poetry is innocent, not wise. It does not learn from experience, because each poetic experience is unique.
The body, what is it, Father, but a sign To love the force that grows us, to give back What in Thy palm is senselessness and mud?
Leo Connellan has retained his soul and voice in Provincetown and Other Poems.
But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep.