I first caught fire in high school and burned with an embarrassing adolescentpassion for poetry through the works of Lao Tze and Dylan Thomas, and then, as a sophomore, in college for Gerard Manly Hopkins, T. S. Eliot, W.B. Yeats, Wallace Stevens, and the octosyllabic ballad meditations on place of Frederico Garcia Lorca and Kenneth Rexroth. In the fifties, Rexroth's The Phoenix and the Tortoise meant far more to me than Ginsberg and the Beats...
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