My mother never forgave my father
The poem in the head is always perfect. Resistance begins when you try to convert it into language.
We have to learn how to live with our frailties. The best people I know are inadequate and unashamed.
An old poet ought never to be caught with his technique showing.
The poem comes in the form of a blessing, like rapture breaking on the mind.
...few young poets [are] testing their poems against the ear. They're writing for the page, and the page, let me tell you, is a cold bed.