I find great pleasure in poetry.
Many people consider it a tease or worse, artsy. Billy Collins writes a couple of very satisfying poems about, "how we want to tie a poem to a chair and beat a confession out of it."
When there was no time for books, I turned to poetry. Huge rewards. Beauty, angst, love, name it, it is there.
Through odd circumstances I met Seamus Heaney. He was a wonderful man.
Truth, in a few words is what a poet can do.
Cummings helped me woo my wife, Neruda has helped me and others with some tough moments. Poetry can be a joy or a mystery. It seems all art is art or not, depending on the consumer. I love what I love and do not worry much about critical response. Love, you
Write. Tell this little bit of the world.