Is there a place here for the spirit ? Is there time on this brief platform for anything other than mind 's failure to explain itself?

The nearest we approach God ...is as creative beings. The poet, by echoing the primary imagination, recreates. Through his work he forces those who read him to do the same, thus bringing them... nearer to the actual being of God as displayed in action.

Poetry is that / which arrives at the intellect / by way of the heart.

Verse should be as natural As the small tuber that feeds on muck And grows slowly from obtuse soil To the white flower of immortal beauty

Is there a place here for the spirit ? Is there time on this brief platform for anything other than mind 's failure to explain itself?

I am a man now. Pass your hand over my brow. You can feel the place where the brains grow.

Sunlight 's a thing that needs a window Before it enter a dark room. Windows don't happen." So two old poets, Hunched at their beer in the low haze Of an inn parlour, while the talk ran Noisily by them, glib with prose.