It is at the edge of the petal that love waits - William Carlos Williams

The art of the poem nowadays is something unstable; but at least the construction of the poem should make sense; you should know where you stand. Many questions haven't been answered as yet. Our poets may be wrong; but what can any of us do with his talent but try to develop his vision, so that through frequent failures we may learn better what we have missed in the past.

Clean is he alone
after whom stream
the broken pieces of the city — flying apart at his approaches

Poets are damned, but they are not blind, they see with the eyes of angels.