42 quotes found
Poet · American · 1923–1997
American poet (1923–1997)
“The poet never must lose despair.”
“I am tired of 'the fine art of unhappiness'.”
“The world is not with us enough. O taste and see.”
“There is a fence around the garden but the gate stands open.”
“Two girls discover the secret of lifein a sudden line of poetry.”
“I am not joking. I'm speaking of spirit. Not dogma but spirit. The Way.”
“Yes, he is here in thisopen field, in sunlight, amongthe few young trees set outto modify the bare facts--he's here, but onlybecause we are here.When we go, he goes with usto be your hands that nev...”
“In the dark I rest,unready for the light which dawnsday after day,eager to be shared.Black silk, shelter me.I needmore of the night before I openeyes and heartto illumination. I must stillgrow in t...”
“There's in my mind a...turbulent moon-ridden girlor old woman, or both,dressed in opals and rags, feathersand torn taffeta,who knows strange songsbut she is not kind.”
“But for us the road unfurls itself, we don't stop walking, we know there is far to go. ”
“The poem has a social effect of some kind whether or not the poet wills it to have. It has a kenetic force, it sets in motion...elements in the reader that would otherwise remain stagnant.”
“Wear scarlet! Tear the green lemonsoff the tree! I don't wantto forget who I am, what has burned in me,and hang limp and clean, an empty dress -”
“I thought I was growing wingsit was a cocoon.I thought, now is the time to stepinto the fireit was deep water.Eschatology is a word I learnedas a child: the study of Last Things;facing my mirrorno ...”
“I am, a shadowthat grows longer as the sunmoves, drawn outon a thread of wonder.If I bear burdensthey begin to be rememberedas gifts, goods, a basketof bread that hurtsmy shoulders but closes mein ...”
“The yellow moon dreamilytipping buttons of lightdown among the leaves. Marimba,marimba - from beyond theblack street.Somebody dancing,somebodygetting the helloutta here. Shadows of catsweave round ...”
“Trying to remember old dreams. A voice. Who came in.And meanwhile the rain, all day, all evening,quiet steady sound. Before it grew too darkwatched the blue iris leaning under the rain,the flame of...”
“I thought I was growing wings—it was a cocoon.I thought, now is the time to stepinto the fire—it was deep water.Eschatology is a word I learnedas a child: the study of Last Things;facing my mirror—...”
“I long for poems of an inner harmony in utter contrast to the chaos in which they exist. Insofar as poetry has a social function it is to awaken sleepers by other means than shock.”
“To leave the open fields and enter the forest,that was the rite. Knowing there was mystery, they could go. Go back now! And he receded among the multitude of forms, the twists and shadows they saw ...”
“I’ve always hated artificial flowers unless they were just flagrantly and beautifully, sort of brassily, artificial. But the good imitations, the ones that you think are real until you get up to th...”
“Praise the invisible sun burning beyond the white cold sky, giving us light and the chimney's shadow.”
“Acknowledgement, and celebration, of mystery probably constitutes the most consistent theme of my poetry from its very beginnings. Because it is a matter of which I am conscious, it is possible, ho...”
“I like to findwhat's not foundat once, but lieswithin something of another nature,in repose, distinct.”
“I like the juicy stem of grass that growswithin the coarser leaf folded round,and the butteryellow glowin the narrow flute from which the morning-gloryopens blue and cool on a hot morning.”
