How do poems grow? They grow out of your life.
The poem is a little myth of man's capacity of making life meaningful. And in the end, the poem is not a thing we see-it is, rather, a light by which we may see-and what we see is life.
I don't expect you'll hear me writing any poems to the greater glory of Ronald and Nancy Reagan.
I've been to a lot of places and done a lot of things, but writing was always first. It's a kind of pain I can't do without.
For what is a poem but a hazardous attempt at self-understanding: it is the deepest part of autobiography.
The urge to write poetry is like having an itch. When the itch becomes annoying enough, you scratch it.
Poets, we know, are terribly sensitive people, and in my observation one of the things they are most sensitive about is money.