Poetry is what exists between the lines. Poetry is made with the syllables of dreams. Poetry is far, far cries upon a beach at nightfall. Poetry is a lighthouse moving its megaphone over the sea. Poetry is a picture of Ma in her Woolworth bra looking out a window into a secret garden.
Poetry is an Arab carrying colored rugs and birdcages through the streets of a great metropolis.
A poem can be made of common household ingredients. It fits on a single page yet it can fill a world and fits in the pocket of a heart. Poetry is pillow-thought after intercourse. The poet is a street singer who rescues the alleycats of love. Poetry is the distillation of articulate animals calling to each other over a great gulf.