Or perhaps the golden oldies will hold up better than any. Poetry is what we would cry out upon awaking in a dark wood in the middle of the journey of our life. A poem is a mirror walking down a street full of visual delight. Poetry is the shook foil of the imagination. It should shine out and half blind you.
Poetry is the sun streaming down in the meshes of morning.
Poetry is white nights and mouths of desire. Poetry is made by dissolving halos in the ocean of sound. Poetry is the street talk of angels and devils. Poetry is a sofa full of blind singers who have put aside their canes. Poetry is the anarchy of the senses making sense.