“When a child, my dreams rode on your wishes, / I was your son, high on your horse, / My mind a top whipped by the lashes / Of your rhetoric, windy of course.”
“I'm struggling at the end to get out of the valley of hectoring youth, journalistic middle age, imposture, moneymaking, public relations, bad writing, mental confusion.”
“The greatest poets are those with memories so great that they extend beyond their strongest experiences to their minutest observations of people and things far outside their own self-centeredness.”
