A poet needs to keep his wilderness alive inside him. To remain a poet after forty requires an awareness of your darkest Africa, that part of yourself that will never be tamed.
by Peter Balakian1.
I took a wrong turn into a sun mask
on mud, into straw-glue and smashed yucca.
If you saw them rub feathers on their arms,
if the claws of bear wrapped them,
if the porcupine and badger were ...
