I Knew That Poets Seemed

I Sit In The Dark And Wait For A Little Flame To Appear At The End Of My Pencil.

The Poem Is Not, As Someone Put It, Deflective Of Entry. But The Real Question Is, 'what Happens To The Reader Once He Or She Gets Inside The Poem?' That's The Real Question For Me, Is Getting The Reader Into The Poem And Then Taking The Reader Somewhere, Because I Think Of Poetry As A Kind Of Form Of Travel Writing.

It Seems Only Yesterday I Used To Believe There Was Nothing Under My Skin But Light. If You Cut Me I Could Shine.

But My Heart Is Always Propped Up In A Field On Its Tripod, Ready For The Next Arrow.

But Tonight, The Lion Of Contentment Has Placed A Warm Heavy Paw On My Chest.