Once, poets were magicians. Poets were strong, stronger than warriors or kings — stronger than old hapless gods. And they will be strong once again.
Rhyme, that enslaved queen, that supreme charm of our poetry, that creator of our meter.
Words become luminous when the poet's finger has passed over them its phosphorescence.
For me a poem has to sing out of itself and the lilt of it carries the magic.
Poetry's magic lies in the imagery which satifies even without interpretation..it is accepted as easily as it was created.
In 'A Poetics of Optics,' Equi writes that 'all images bank on alchemy.' This idea captures her fundamental sense of poetry as turning common material into something rare and valuable.
