Most reckless things are beautiful in some way, and recklessness is what makes experimental art beautiful, just as religions are beautiful because of the strong possibilities that they are founded on nothing.
In the increasingly convincing darkness
The words become palpable, like a fruit
That is too beautiful to eat.
The summer demands and takes away too much. /But night, the reserved, the reticent, gives more than it takes
until only infinity remained of beauty
Things can harden meaningfully in the moment of indecision
How many people came and stayed a certain time,
Uttered light or dark speech that became part of you
Like light behind windblown fog and sand
Filtered and influenced by it, until no part
Remains that is surely you.
Did I say that? One says so many things, and the problem is they all get written down.
It didn’t pay very much, but it enabled me to get other jobs doing art criticism, which I didn’t want to do very much, but as so often when you exhibit reluctance to do something, people think you must be very good at it. If I had set out to be an art critic, I might never have succeeded.
These two guys in the front yard--
Are they here to help?
When I originally started writing, I expected that probably very few people would read my poetry because in those days people didn’t read poetry much anyway.
Well, there are certain stock words that I have found myself using a great deal. When I become aware of them, it is an alarm signal meaning I am falling back on something that has served in the past—it is a sign of not thinking at the present moment, not that there is anything intrinsically bad about certain words or phrases.
Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you,
At incredible speed, traveling day and night,
Through blizzards and desert heat, across torrents, through narrow passes.
But will he know where to find you,
Recognize you when he sees you,
Give you the thing he has for you?
There is the view that poetry should improve your life. I think people confuse it with the Salvation Army.
In the beginning there are those who don't quite fit in
But are somehow okay. And then some morning
There are places that suddenly seem wonderful:
Weather and water seem wonderful,
And the peaceful night sky that arrives
In time to protect us, like a sword
Cutting the blue cloak of a prince.
