Through The Years I Have

I'm Uncomfortable With The Focus On The Poet And Not On The Poem.

There's A Sameness About American Poetry That I Don't Think Represents The Whole People. It Represents A Poetry Of The Moment, A Poetry Of Evasion, And I Have Problems With This. I Believe Poetry Has Always Been Political, Long Before Poets Had To Deal With The Page And White Space . . . It's Natural.

Blue Is The Insides Of Something Mysterious And Lonely. I'd Look At Fish And Birds, Thinking The Sky And Water Colored Them. The First Abyss Is Blue. An Artist Must Go Beyond The Mercy Of Satin Or Water-from A Gutty Hue To That Which Is Close To Royal Purple. All Seasons And Blossoms Inbetween. Lavender. Theatrical And Outrageous Electric. Almost Gray. True And False Blue. Water And Oil. The Gas Jet Breathing In Oblivion. The Unstruck Match. The Blue Of Absence. The Blue Of Deep Presence. The Insides Of Something Perfect.

I Think Of Language As Our First Music.

I Said That Love Heals From Inside.