You have your identity when you find out, not what you can keep your mind on, but what you can’t keep your mind off
You have your identity when you find out, not what you can keep your mind on, but what you can’t keep your mind off.
You have your identity when you find out, not what you can keep your mind on, but what you can’t keep your mind off.
Probably all the attention to poetry results in some value, though the attention is more often directed to lesser than to greater values.
If we ask a vague question, such as, ‘What is poetry?’ we expect a vague answer, such as, ‘Poetry is the music of words,’ or ‘Poetry is the linguistic correction of disorder.
Even if you walk exactly the same route each time – as with a sonnet – the events along the route cannot be imagined to be the same from day to day, as the poet’s health, sight, his anticipations, moods, fears, thoughts cannot be the same.
Each poem in becoming generates the laws by which it is generated: extensions of the laws to other poems never completely take.
I can’t tell you where a poem comes from, what it is, or what it is for: nor can any other man. The reason I can’t tell you is that the purpose of a poem is to go past telling, to be recognised by burning.
Definition, rationality, and structure are ways of seeing, but they become prisons when they blank out other ways of seeing.
Is it not careless to become too local when there are four hundred billion stars in our galaxy alone.
I must stress here the point that I appreciate clarity, order, meaning, structure, rationality: they are necessary to whatever provisional stability we have, and they can be the agents of gradual and successful change.
I take the walk to be the externalization of an interior seeking so that the analogy is first of all between the external and the internal.