James Schuyler quotes:
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Snow falling softly on lashes of eyes you love, and a cold cheek growing warm next to your own in hushed dark familial December.
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However, if a poem can be reduced to a prose sentence, there can't be much to it.
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In the past I have declined to comment on my own work: because, it seems to me, a poem is what it is; because a poem is itself a definition, and to try to redefine it is to be apt to falsify it; and because the author is the person least able to consider his work objectively.
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I wish i could press snowflakes in a book like flowers.
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It is always pleasant to learn that someone takes an interest in a work which one enjoyed writing.
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A nothing day full of wild beauty .... Little fish stream by, a river in water.
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It seems to me that readers sometimes make the genesis of a poem more mysterious than it is (by that I perhaps mean, think of it as something outside their own experience)
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One tends to write beyond what's needed.
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The aim of the poet, or other artist, is first to make something; and it's impossible to make something out of words and not communicate.
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I do not usually revise much, though I often cut, particularly the end or toward the end of a poem.
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The aim of the poet, or other artist, is first to make something; and it's impossible to make something out of words and not communicate
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In the past I have declined to comment on my own work: because, it seems to me, a poem is what it is; because a poem is itself a definition, and to try to redefine it is to be apt to falsify it; and because the author is the person least able to consider his work objectively
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One tends to write beyond what's needed
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I do not usually revise much, though I often cut, particularly the end or toward the end of a poem
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It is always pleasant to learn that someone takes an interest in a work which one enjoyed writing
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What are the questions you wish to ask?
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Looking at the sky last night and the moon in the first fresh dark, just a few stars, bright with their cold flares, I had a little crumpled thought, 'Oh well, the moon. It's just another place like California.' One's imagination drags its feet as we are inexorably hauled into the future.