Poetry is the sound of summer in the rain and of people laughing behind closed shutters down a narrow street. Poetry is the incomparable lyric intelligence brought to bear upon fifty-seven varieties of experience. Poetry is a high house echoing with all the voices that ever said anything crazy or wonderful. Poetry is a subversive raid upon the forgotten language of the collective unconscious. Poetry is a real canary in a coal mine, and we know why the caged bird sings.
Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations.
Poetry is the voice within the voice of the turtle. Poetry is the face behind the face of the race. Poetry is made of night thoughts. If it can tear itself away from illusion, it will not be disowned before the dawn. Poetry is made by evaporating the liquid laughter of youth.