O Music! sphere-descended maid, / Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid! |
Poetry is my cheap means of transportation. By the end of the poem the reader should be in a different place from where he started. I would like him to be slightly disoriented at the end, like I drove him outside of town at night and dropped him off in a cornfield. |
Poetry is the history of the human heart, and it continues to record the history of human emotion, whether it's celebration or grief or whatever it may be. |
Prior to Wordsworth, humor was an essential part of poetry. I mean, they don't call them Shakespeare comedies for nothing. |
The sunlight flashes off your windshield, and when I look up into the small, posted mirror, I watch you diminish--my echo, my twin-- and vanish around a curve in this whip of a road we can't help traveling together. |
Then there were the wits, using their last breath to exhale a line, a devastating capper, as if the world were simply a large gallery buzzing with people, and now it was time to throw on a long scarf and make an exit, leaving it to someone else to close the door. |
There are many that I miss, having sent my last one out a car window sparking along the road one night, years ago. |
This is our nation's capital. To have Major League Baseball return to our nation's capital has a special significance, ... There's the opportunity to own something that has been a part of the tradition and legacy of the city and the surrounding area, and now can become part of the fabric of our community. |
When a writer becomes a reader of his or her own work, a lot can go wrong. It's like do-it-yourself dentistry. |
When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung. |
When words are put together in fresh ways there is a pleasure-giving quality in language, which brings a release of endorphins. |
With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd, Pale Melancholy sate retir'd, And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul. |
Words like feminism or democracy scare me. They are words with barnacles on them, and you can't see what's underneath. |
You tell me it is too early to be looking back, but that is because you have forgotten the perfect simplicity of being one and the beautiful complexity introduced by two. |