"It was not surprising that Blake would appear to Yeats from time to time & dictate revisions in the poems of Blake that he was editing--revisions which Yeats faithfully incorporated in the text he published." --David Perkins, A History of Modern Poetry v.1 (1976)

I've got a nose for crazies like a truffle pig.

"Tears taste salt to the living but sweet to the dead..." --Ursula LeGuin, Compass Rose

A question [was] put to all the poets [at Chumley's that night]...: what would you be reincarnated as, & why? ...finally i dediced, a siliqua, one of those tadpole-shaped seed pods that drops twirling down like a helicopter. "Because first you get to fly. And then you become a tree."

I suggested to A---- [the Open Mike hostess] we have a "house reader", maybe an actor, who'll read for people that don't want to. Yeah--i'd've made it my whole career to stay hidden, if i could. (I also suggested providing masks.)

Everyone seems to have these ridiculous, crippling flaws; & i suppose i am that way too. Damaged. We are all damaged in this place.

To give everything away before i die: sometimes that is my muse, sometimes my anti-muse. For one can be tempted by a greater generosity--to give it to the Void.

Loneliness corrupts; absolute loneliness corrupts absolutely.

   "Moonrise

Will you glimmer on the sea?
Will you fling your spearhead
on the shore?
What note shall we pitch?
We have a song,
on the bank we share our arrows;
the loosed string tells our note:

O flight,
bring her swiftly to our song.
She is great,
we measure her by the pine trees."

--H.D.

Rebirth's less of a story.