As a child, I thought I hated everybody, but when I grew up I realized it was just children I didn't like.

The poetic impulse is distinct from ideas about things or feelings about things, though it may use these. It's more like a desire to separate a piece of one's experience & set it up on its own, an isolated object never to trouble you again, at least not for a bit. In the absence of this impulse nothing stirs.

The chromatic scale is what you use to give the effect of drinking a quinine martini and having an enema simultaneously.

Sexual intercourse began in 1963 ... / Between the end of the Chatterley ban/ and the Beatles first LP

A good meal can somewhat repair / The eatings of slight love

He married a woman to stop her getting away Now she's there all day.

Heads in the Women's Ward On pillow after pillow lies The wild white hair and staring eyes; Jaws stand open; necks are stretched With every tendon sharply sketched; A bearded mouth talks silently To someone no one else can see. Sixty years ago they smiled At lover, husband, first-born child. Smiles are for youth. For old age come Death's terror and delirium.