Poetry Is The Enemy Of The Poem.

Some Poems Present Themselves As Cliffs That Need To Be Climbed. Others Are So Defensive That When You Approach Their Enclosure You Half Expect To Be Met By A Snarling Dog At The Gate. Still Others Want To Smother You With Their Sticky Charms.

An Old Poet Ought Never To Be Caught With His Technique Showing.

End With An Image And Don't Explain.

When They Shall Paint Our Sockets Gray And Light Us Like A Stinking Fuse, Remember That We Once Could Say, Yesterday We Had A World To Lose.

Be What You Are. Give What Is Yours To Give. Have Style. Dare.