The first task of the poet is to create the person who will write the poems.
My mother never forgave my father
The ear writes my poems, not the mind.
In a murderous time/the heart breaks and breaks/and lives by breaking.
Some poems present themselves as cliffs that need to be climbed. Others are so defensive that when you approach their enclosure you half expect to be met by a snarling dog at the gate. Still others want to smother you with their sticky charms.
Be what you are. Give What is yours to give. Have Style. Dare.