Will Occur As Time Grows

Part Of The Strength Of Pollock And Rothko's Art, In Fact, Is This Doubt As To Whether Art May Be There At All.

In The Increasingly Convincing Darkness The Words Become Palpable, Like A Fruit That Is Too Beautiful To Eat.

I Would Like To Please The Reader, And I Think That Surprise Has To Be An Element Of This, And That May Necessitate A Certain Amount Of Teasing. To Shock The Reader Is Something Else Again. That Has To Be Handled With Great Care If You're Not Going To Alienate And Hurt Him, And I'm Firmly Against That, Just As I Disapprove Of People Who Dress With That In Mind - Dye Their Hair Blue And Stick Safety Pins Through Their Noses And So On.

And We May Be Led, Then, Upward Through More Powerful Forms Of Poetry, Past Columns With Peeling Posters On Them, To The Country Of Indifference. Meanwhile If The Swell Diapasons, Blooms Unhappily And Too Soon, The Little People Are Nonetheless Real.

One Listens To A Piece Of Great Music, Say, And Feels Deeply Moved By It, And Wants To Put This Feeling Into Words, But It Can't Be Put Into Words. That's What - The Music Has Already Supplied The Meaning, And Words Will Just Be Superfluous After That. But It's That Kind Of Verbal Meaning That Can't Be Verbalized That I Try To Get At In Poetry.