The heart of standing is that you cannot fly.

Law makes long spokes of the short stakes of men.

Slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills. It is not the effort nor the failure tires. The waste remains, the waste remains and kills.

Poets, on the face of it, have either got to be easier or to write their own notes; readers have either got to take more trouble over reading or cease to regard notes as pretentious and a sign of bad poetry

I'm afraid I take ... this rather clinical view of love: it's saving you from madness. I'm not so enthusiastic as other poets have been.

The heart of standing is that you cannot fly.

The machinations of ambiguity are among the very roots of poetry.