Imagination though it cannot wipe out the sting of remorse can instruct the mind in its proper uses.

Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood's edge

Poetry demands a different material than prose. It uses another facet of the same fact... the spontaneous conformation of language as it is heard.

But the sea which no one tends is also a garden

Poets are being pursued by the philosophers today, out of the poverty of philosophy. God damn it, you might think a man had no business to be writing, to be a poet unless some philosophic stinker gave him permission.

And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks of her dress in a strange bedroom-- feels the autumn dropping its silk and linen leaves about her ankles. The tawdry veined body emerges twisted upon itself like a winter wind.

History, history! We fools, what do we know or care.