It looks like a Roethke day


On poetry, found here.

The poem, even a short time after being written,
seems no miracle; unwritten, it seems
something beyond the capacity of the gods.


Art is the means we have of undoing the damage of
haste. It’s what everything else isn’t.


You can’t make poetry simply by avoiding clichés.


There’s a point where plainness is no longer a virtue,
when it becomes excessively bald, wrenched.


You must believe: a poem is a holy thing — a good poem,
that is.


2 Responses to “It looks like a Roethke day”

  1. Julie Says:

    Thanks, you too!

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