I think poetry should be alive. You should be able to dance it.
Someone says: 'Whom do you write for?' I reply: 'Do you read me?' If they say 'yes', I say, 'Do you like it?' If they say 'No,' then I say, 'I don't write for you'.
From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.
The day he moved out was terrible - that evening she went through hell. His absence wasn't a problem but the corkscrew had gone as well.
Truly fine poetry must be read aloud. A good poem does not allow itself to be read in a low voice or silently. If we can read it silently, it is not a valid poem: a poem demands pronunciation. Poetry always remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art. It remembers that it was first song.
I have taken to my bed and my bed has taken to me We're getting married in the spring, How happy we shall be. We'll raise lots of little bunks, a sleeping bag or two Take my advice: find a bed that's nice, lie down and say 'I love you'
Come live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Or woods or steepy mountain yields.
Listen! If stars are lit It means there is someone who needs it, It means someone wants them to be, That someone deems those specks of spit Magnificent!
And nothing to look backward to with pride, And nothing to look forward to with hope.
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.