Many of my poems are not sexual.
I try not to observe myself in the process of composing a poem because I don’t want to come up with a formula, which I would then be unscrupulous in using.
We learned in the university to consider Wordsworth and Keats as Romantics. They were only a generation apart, but Wordsworth didn’t even read Keats’s book when he gave him a copy.
I work best in rhyme and meter. I was most confident of myself in that way.
When I first started teaching at Berkeley in 1958, I could not announce that I was gay to anybody, though probably quite a few of my fellow teachers knew.
We control the content of our dreams.
I haven’t written anything in four years. I’m sort of dried up.
As humans we look at things and think about what we’ve looked at. We treasure it in a kind of private art gallery.
There have been two popular subjects for poetry in the last few decades: the Vietnam War and AIDS, about both of which almost all of us have felt deeply.
My old teacher’s definition of poetry is an attempt to understand.