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What destruction have I been blessed by?

A. R. Ammons

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A. R. Ammons
Age: 75 †
Born: 1926
Born: February 18
Died: 2001
Died: February 26
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Whiteville
North Carolina
A.R. Ammons
A R Ammons
AR Ammons
Destruction
Blessed

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The wonderful workings of the world: wonderful, wonderful: I'm surprised half the time
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Everything is discursive opinion instead of direct experience.
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I have reached no conclusions, have erected no boundaries, shutting out and shutting in, separating inside from outside: I have drawn no lines
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I have a life that did not become, that turned aside and stopped, astonished
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Though I have looked everywhere / I can find nothing lowly / in the universe.
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Attend to mushrooms and all other things will answer up.
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It's not a love of poetry readings that attracts those who do come to them but theater.
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I am grateful for - though I can't keep up with - the flood of articles, theses, and textbooks that mean to share insight concerning the nature of poetry.
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A poem generated by its own laws may be unrealized and bad in terms of so-called objective principles of taste, judgement, deduction.
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In nature there are few sharp lines
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Thats a wonderful change thats taken place, and so most poetry today is published, if not directly by the person, certainly by the enterprise of the poet himself, working with his friends.
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Definition, rationality, and structure are ways of seeing, but they become prisons when they blank out other ways of seeing.
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Where but in the very asshole of comedown is redemption: as where but brought low, where but in the grief of failure, loss, error do we discern the savage afflictions that turn us around: where but in the arrangements love crawls us through
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Things go away to return, brightened for the passage
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The white sun like a moth on a string circles the southpole.
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I can't tell you where a poem comes from, what it is, or what it is for: nor can any other man. The reason I can't tell you is that the purpose of a poem is to go past telling, to be recognised by burning.
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There's something to be said in favor of working in isolation in the real world.
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Besides the actual reading in class of many poems, I would suggest you do two things: first, while teaching everything you can and keeping free of it, teach that poetry is a mode of discourse that differs from logical exposition
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Even if you walk exactly the same route each time - as with a sonnet - the events along the route cannot be imagined to be the same from day to day, as the poet's health, sight, his anticipations, moods, fears, thoughts cannot be the same.
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To be saved is here, local and mortal
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