Doeg, though without knowing how or why,
Made a still a blundering kind of melody;
Spurr'd boldly read more

Doeg, though without knowing how or why,
Made a still a blundering kind of melody;
Spurr'd boldly on, and dash'd through thick and thin,
Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in;
Free from all meaning whether good or bad,
And in one word, heroically mad.

If Galileo had said in verse that the world moved, the inquisition might have let him alone.

If Galileo had said in verse that the world moved, the inquisition might have let him alone.

A poem conveys not a message so much as the provenance of a message, an advent of sense.

A poem conveys not a message so much as the provenance of a message, an advent of sense.

However, if a poem can be reduced to a prose sentence, there can't be much to it.

However, if a poem can be reduced to a prose sentence, there can't be much to it.

A poet can survive everything but a misprint.

A poet can survive everything but a misprint.

Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.

A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.

Poetry is a way of taking life by the throat.

Poetry is a way of taking life by the throat.

For me, poetry is an impish attempt to paint the colour of the wind.

For me, poetry is an impish attempt to paint the colour of the wind.