It's Time We Did Something To Assert

Poets Are Damned... But See With The Eyes Of Angels.

The Closet Door Is Open For Me, Where I Left It, Since I Left It Open, It Has Graciously Stayed Open.

Because Systems Of Mass Communication Can Communicate Only Officially Acceptable Levels Of Reality, No One Can Know The Extent Of The Secret Unconscious Life. No One In America Can Know What Will Happen. No One Is In Real Control.

The Hero Surviving His Own Murder, His Own Suicide, His Own Addiction, Surviving His Own Disappearance From The Scene

Taxi September Along Jessore Road Oxcart Skeletons Drag Charcoal Load Past Watery Fields Thru Rain Flood Ruts Dung Cakes On Treetrunks, Plastic-roof Huts Wet Processions Families Walk Stunted Boys Big Heads Don't Talk Look Bony Skulls & Silent Round Eyes Starving Black Angels In Human Disguise.