The unconscious creates, the ego edits.
Rhythm to me is essentially what Hopkins called the taste of self. I taste myself as rhythm.
The poem comes in the form of a blessing, like rapture breaking on the mind.
Be what you are. Give What is yours to give. Have Style. Dare.
The poem in the head is always perfect. Resistance begins when you try to convert it into language.
Memory is each man's poet-in-residence.