Let the poet be a singing animal turned pimp for an anarchist king. The poet mixes drinks out of the insane liquors of the imagination and is perpetually surprised that no one staggers. The poet should be a dark barker before the tents of existence. Poetry is what can be heard at manholes echoing up Dante's fire escape. Poetry is what moths hum as they circle the flame.
Poetry is the thrill of a lighted window at night.
The poet must have wide-angle vision, each look a worldglance, and the concrete is most poetic. Poetry is not all heroin, horses, and Rimbaud. It is also the whisper of elephants and the powerless prayers of airline passengers fastening their seatbelts for the final descent. Poetry is the real subject of great prose. Each poem should be a momentary madness, and the unreal is realist.