Here I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.

Signs are taken for wonders. 'We would see a sign!' The word within a word, unable to speak a word, Swaddled with darkness.

The bad poet is usually unconscious where he ought to be conscious, and conscious where he ought to be unconscious. Both errors tend to make him 'personal.' Po…