• Poetry Is a Destructive Force by Wallace Stevens

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• "That's what misery is, / Nothing to have at heart. / It is to have or nothing. // It is a thing to have, / A lion, an ox in his breast, / To feel it breathing there. // Corazón, stout dog, / Young ox, bow-legged bear, / He tastes its blood, not spit. // He is like a man / In the body of a violent beast. / Its muscles are his own . . . // The lion sleeps in the sun. / Its nose is on its paws. / It can kill a man."