Individuals often turn to poetry, not only to glean strength
and perspective from the words of others, but to give birth
to their own poetic voices and to hold history accountable
for the catastrophes rearranging their lives.

The American identity has never been a singular one and the voices of poets invariably sing, in addition to their own, the voices of those around them.

The birth of a true poet is neither an insignificant event nor an easy delivery. Complications generally begin long before the fated soul carries its dubious light into whatever womb has been kind enough to volunteer the intricate machinery of its blood and prayers and muscles for a gestation period much longer than nine months or even nine years.

Everything you invent is true: you can be sure of that. Poetry is a subject as precise as geometry.

The music of revelation announces itself to the reader in somber brooding tones or in melodies light as air and one is invited to dance with the most captivating of partners: poetry.

The productions of all arts are kinds of poetry and their craftsmen are all poets.