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I am not ridiculing verbal mechanisms, dreams, or repressions as origins of poetry all three of them and more besides may have a great deal to do with it.

Allen Tate

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Allen Tate
Age: 79 †
Born: 1899
Born: November 19
Died: 1979
Died: February 9
Author
Literary Critic
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Winchester
Kentucky
John Orley Allen Tate
Great
Mechanism
Poetry
Repressions
Dreams
Ridiculing
Deal
Mechanisms
Deals
Origins
Three
Verbal
Dream
Repression
May
Besides

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Narcissism and the Confederate dead cannot be connected logically, or even historically even were the connection an historical fact, they would not stand connected as art, for no one experiences raw history.
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Let us lie down once more by the breathing side Of Ocean, where our live forefathers sleep As if the Known Sea still were a month wide-- Atlantis howls but is no longer steep!
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All the sea-gods are dead. You, Venus, come home To your salt maidenhead.
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Poets, in their way, are practical men they are interested in results.
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The innocent mansion of a panther's heart!
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How does one happen to write a poem: where does it come from? That is the question asked by the psychologists or the geneticists of poetry.
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We are afraid that we have not lived. We are not afraid of dying.
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We know the particular poem, not what it says that we can restate.
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There's precious little to say between day and dark, Perhaps a few words on the implacable will Of time sailing like a magic barque Or something as fine for the amenities.
Allen Tate
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The twilight is long fingers and black hair.
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I thought I heard the dark pounding its head On a rock, crying: Who are the dead?
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Poets are mysterious, but a poet when all is said is not much more mysterious than a banker.
Allen Tate
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So the poet, who wants to be something that he cannot be, and is a failure in plain life, makes up fictitious versions of his predicament that are interesting even to other persons because nobody is a perfect automobile salesman.
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I had kept opaque Down deeper than the canyons undersea The sullen spectrum of a buried lake Nobody saw not seen even by me.
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In an age of abstract experience, fornication Is self-expression, adjunct to Christian euphoria, And whores become delinquents delinquents, patients Patients, wards of society. Whores, by that rule, Are precious.
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Now remember courage, go to the door,Open it and see whether coiled on the bedOr cringing by the wall, a savage beastMaybe with golden hair, with deep eyesLike a bearded spider on a sunlit floorWill snarl-and man can never be alone.
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In the cold morning the rested street stands up To greet the clerk who saunters down the world.
Allen Tate
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Our loss put six feet under ground Is measured by the magnolia's root Our gain's the intellectual sound Of death's feet round a weedy tomb.
Allen Tate
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we know our end A packet of worm-seed, a garden of spent tissues.
Allen Tate
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Serious poetry deals with the fundamental conflicts that cannot be logically resolved: we can state the conflicts rationally, but reason does not relieve us of them.
Allen Tate