"Poetry is the still sound between the strings of a lute.
It is the birth of ideas before they are distilled into thought.
It is made by dissolving halos in oceans of sound."
"I speak here of poetry as a revelatory distillation of experience,
not the sterile word play that, too often, the white fathers distorted
the word poetry to mean--in order to cover a desperate wish for imagination
the corn of life
the malt of experience
the heat of first words
the coolness of memory
the oaken barrels of craft:
the distillation that makes a poem condense
Enter the d.stillery