Attend to mushrooms and all other things will answer up.

Each poem in becoming generates the laws by which it is generated: extensions of the laws to other poems never completely take.

Definition, rationality, and structure are ways of seeing, but they become prisons when they blank out other ways of seeing.

The white sun like a moth on a string circles the southpole.

For though we often need to be restored to the small, concrete, limited, and certain, we as often need to be reminded of the large, vague, unlimited, unknown.

Anything looked at closely becomes wonderful.

Where but in the very asshole of comedown is redemption: as where but brought low, where but in the grief of failure, loss, error do we discern the savage afflictions that turn us around: where but in the arrangements love crawls us through.

That's a wonderful change that's taken place, and so most poetry today is published, if not directly by the person, certainly by the enterprise of the poet himself, working with his friends.

A poem generated by its own laws may be unrealized and bad in terms of so-called objective principles of taste, judgement, deduction.

I am grateful for -- though I can't keep up with -- the flood of articles, theses, and textbooks that mean to share insight concerning the nature of poetry.

To be saved is here, local and mortal.

Once every five hundred years or so, a summary statement about poetry comes along that we can't imagine ourselves living without.

Questions structure and, so, to some extent predetermine answers.

The poet exposes himself to the risk. All that has been said about poetry, all that he has learned about poetry, is only a partial assurance.

Probably all the attention to poetry results in some value, though the attention is more often directed to lesser than to greater values.

I must stress here the point that I appreciate clarity, order, meaning, structure, rationality: they are necessary to whatever provisional stability we have, and they can be the agents of gradual and successful change.

If a poem is each time new, then it is necessarily an act of discovery, a chance taken, a chance that may lead to fulfillment or disaster.

You have your identity when you find out, not what you can keep your mind ON, but what you can't keep your mind OFF.

I have reached no conclusions, have erected no boundaries,

shutting out and shutting in, separating inside

from outside: I have

drawn no lines.

Besides the actual reading in class of many poems, I would suggest you do two things: first, while teaching everything you can and keeping free of it, teach that poetry is a mode of discourse that differs from logical exposition.