Poetry Should Begin With Emotion

Uncontradicting Solitude Supports Me On Its Giant Palm; And Like A Sea-anemone Or Simple Snail, There Cautiously Unfolds, Emerges, What I Am.

Any Memory For The Most Part Depending On Chance.

The Trees Are Coming Into Leaf Like Something Almost Being Said.

You Can't Put Off Being Young Until You Retire.

And Immediately Rather Than Words Comes The Thought Of High Windows: The Sun-comprehending Glass, And Beyond It, The Deep Blue Air, That Shows Nothing, And Is Nowhere, And Is Endless.