Many Of My Poems Are Not Sexual.

I Was At A Benefit For Some Imprisoned Students In The '60s At San Francisco State, And There Were Lots Of Poets Reading For The Benefit: One Was Elizabeth Bishop.

I Had Assumed That I Would Age With All My Friends Growing Old Around Me, Dying Off Very Gradually One By One. And Here Was A Plague That Cut Them Off So Early.

I Don't Think Of Sex As A Self-destructive Impulse.

How Sociable The Garden Was. We Ate And Talked In Given Light. The Children Put Their Toys To Grass All The Warm Wakeful August Night.

Much That Is Natural, To The Will Must Yield. Men Manufacture Both Machine And Soul, And Use What They Imperfectly Control To Dare A Future From The Taken Routes.