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Something about Fuchs.

“GHOSTS

The wind is full of ghosts tonight.
  Let them carry your body far.
Let them bury you out of sight
  Under a brooding star.

I can not weep for blood or bone.
  Flesh grown cold or eyes that stare.
Let them tuck you under a stone.
  Little, little I care.

For the wind is full of ghosts that talk,
  And I a rendezvous must keep
With something more than dust and chalk
  Before I sleep.”

–Marion Francis Brown, in: Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1925

Golden Earrings.

"I do not have any great desire to encourage the presence of contemporary writing in the University because I believe that contemporary poetry already receives far more encouragement than is good for it." --Geoffrey Hill via

Why Kill Time.