Poetry might be defined as the clear expression of mixed feelings.
History marched to the drums of a clear idea...
Music is the best means we have of digesting time.
Every poet has his dream reader: mine keeps a look out for curious prosodic fauna like bacchics and choriambs.
The older lives like not to be stood in rows or at right angles.
Perhaps there is only one cardinal sin: impatience. Because of impatience we were driven out of Paradise, because of impatience we cannot return.