With the first step, the number of shapes the walk might take is infinite, but then the walk begins to define itself as it goes along, though freedom….

Definition, rationality, and structure are ways of seeing, but they become prisons when they blank out other ways of seeing..

The walk liberating, I was released from forms, from the perpendiculars, straight lines, blocks, boxes, binds of thought into the hues, shadings, ris….

Where but in the very asshole of comedown is redemption: as where but brought low, where but in the grief of failure, loss, error do we discern the s….

Poetry leads us to the unstructured sources of our beings, to the unknown, and returns us to our rational, structured selves refreshed. Having once e….

The poet exposes himself to the risk. All that has been said about poetry, all that he has learned about poetry, is only a partial assurance..

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 ….

Is it not careless to become too local when there are four hundred billion stars in our galaxy alone..

Things go away to return, brightened for the passage.

For though we often need to be restored to the small, concrete, limited, and certain, we as often need to be reminded of the large, vague, unlimited,….

What destruction have I been blessed by?.

Probably all the attention to poetry results in some value, though the attention is more often directed to lesser than to greater values.

I have reached no conclusions, have erected no boundaries, shutting out and shutting in, separating inside from outside: I have drawn no lines.

Though I have looked everywhere / I can find nothing lowly / in the universe..

I have a life that did not become, that turned aside and stopped, astonished.

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, ….

Everything is discursive opinion instead of direct experience..

There's something to be said in favor of working in isolation in the real world..

The white sun like a moth on a string circles the southpole..

Anything looked at closely becomes wonderful..

A poem generated by its own laws may be unrealized and bad in terms of so-called objective principles of taste, judgement, deduction..