Best 16 quotes of Dean Young on MyQuotes

A poem should be odd as a small cast-iron platypus.

but nothing can be taken back, not the leaves by the trees, the rain by the clouds. You want to take back the ugly thing you said, but some shrapnel remains in the wound, some mud.

Go down any road far enough and you'll come to a slaughterhouse, but keep going and you'll reach the sea.

Hark, dumbass, the error is not to fall but to fall from no height. Don't fall off a curb, fall off a cliff.

Here is a semi-transparent pebble I picked up on the way to my EKG. Probably worthless but it is my heart so take it.

I don't believe in writer's block, writing well is very easy; it's writing horribly, the horrible work necessary to do to get to writing well, that is so difficult one may just not be willing to do it.

I was satisfied with haiku until I met you, but now I want a Russian novel, a 50-page description of you sleeping.

Just because we have birds inside us, we don't have to be cages.

Poetry is not efficient. If you want to learn how to cook a lobster, it’s probably best not to look to poetry. But if you want to see the word lobster in all its reactant oddity, its pied beauty, as if for the first time, go to poetry. And if you want to know what it’s like to be that lobster in the pot, that’s in poetry too.

Poets are excellent students of blizzards and salt and broken statuary, but they are always elsewhere for the test. Any intention in the writing of poetry besides the aim to make a poem, of engaging the materials, SHOULD be disappointed. If the poet does not have the chutzpah to jeopardize habituated assumptions and practices, what will be produced will be sleep without dream, a copy of a copy of a copy.

There are no ordinary feelings. Just as there are no ordinary spring days or kicked over cans of paint.

You are made of bent coat hangers, honey, gravel, epoxy and handstands. I am made of lying on the floor, the same song on repeat.

You start with a darkness to move through but sometimes the darkness moves through you.

‎I was satisfied with haiku until I met you, jar of octopus, cuckoo's cry, 5-7-5, but now I want a russian novel, a 50-page description of you sleeping, another 75 of what you think staring at your window.

When you are 70% sure, act / because the other 30% is reserved for hope / which is doubt turned upside-down.

You bend the nail But keep hammering because Hammering makes the world