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Good read. I liked this bit, which is why I mentioned negative capability earlier. "Some people may think they have the answer, but I think that if you have any degree of certainty about it, you don’t really understand the problem. I would say the same about reading Frost’s poetry. INTERVIEWER...

I mean, it's fair enough, reading poems is really hard and I'm not very good at it myself but...

You're playing daft word games because you don't know how to read.

What's the point of talking about people who've never read them? Lol!

Words tend to have several definitions with nuanced differences between them. But you know that already. I'd like to know why you think why Frost is artless, I'm genuinely perplexed. For a start, he's pretty much universally recognised as a master of irony, so how is he artless?

So why do you think Robert frost was artless?

I was referring to fashion. You don't have to been alive at the time to be able to look back and see when it was popular before being rinsed out, and then later revived with various adaptations.

Why is robert frost artless then?

One sign of his subtlety is his sonnets - I'd read a few of them several times before I even realised that they were sonnets, the rhyming is so unintrusive. Writing sonnets was a terribly unfashionable thing to do for a modern poet of the time, and I like that he went his own way, and managed...

The stopping by the woods one I posted reminds me of wordworths lucy poems quite a lot in that it's what's left out that gives it that hard-to-place mood. He doesn't tell us anything about the owner of the woods apart from he thinks he know who it is and he lives in the village. We don't really...

The magic of Frost is the subtlety. On the surface it seems simple and easy to read, but it has mysterious hidden depths and ironies, it's hard to figure out what he really means. And the lyrical ones like the one I just posted have an immortal quality to them, like they've always existed...

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the...

There's no way you can call Frost artless, quite the opposite.

I Know a Man By Robert Creeley As I sd to my friend, because I am always talking,—John, I sd, which was not his name, the darkness sur- rounds us, what can we do against it, or else, shall we & why not, buy a goddamn big car, drive, he sd, for christ’s sake, look out where yr...

Not artless in the way luka is defining it, but makes me laugh and I think it's good advice.

Lenny Dee meets Tommy Musto meets Tim Taylor, NY but made in London. Unbelievably ahead of its time

Quite big of Pound to finally admit that Whitman was his daddy even though he hated him.

Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! Earth of departed sunset — earth of the mountains misty-topt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!

She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me!