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Here are poems written over a period of twenty-six years -- even
more, if I go back to the scraps that finally took form. My theory of poetry has gone
unchanged: if one liked the first volume, one will probably like this, the second. If ever
there is drawn a line between poetry and prose, some of these poems will become prose. To
my mind, poetry is a concentration upon hypothesis, prose a straining for proof. Both
should enjoy literary elegance. Poetry is lucky to be allowed many twists and turns of
mind and style; prose is a beast that plods or trots, but cannot change its flesh and
bones. Their inventor, Homo Schizo, loves both of them.
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