A life is not sufficiently elevated for poetry, unless, of course, the life has been made into an art.

Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.

...In another time, What cannot be seen will define us, and we shall be prompted To say that language is error, and all things are wronged By representation. The self, we shall say, can never be Seen with a disguise, and never be seen without one.

To open the dictionary of the Beyond and discover what one suspected, that the only word in it is nothing.

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I have been eating poetry.

It came to my house. It sat on my shoulders. Your shadow is yours. I told it so. I said it was yours. I have carried it with me too long. I give it back.

I would say that American poetry has always been a poetry of personal testimony.