I see no reason for calling my work poetry except that there is no other category in which to put it.
We are suffering from too much sarcasm.
The heart that gives, gathers.
Only imagination that towers can reproduce evanescence and render rigidity flexible.
When we think we don't like art it is because it is artificial art.
In a poem the excitement has to maintain itself. I am governed by the pull of the sentence as the pull of a fabric is governed by gravity.