Recent History Is The Record Of One

Poetry Is Not An Expression Of The Party Line. It's That Time Of Night, Lying In Bed, Thinking What You Really Think, Making The Private World Public, That's What The Poet Does.

Let Go Of The Spirit Of The Departed, And Continue The Celebration Of Your Own Life.

No Monster Vibration, No Snake Universe Hallucinations. Many Tiny Jeweled Violet Flowers Along The Path Of A Living Brook That Looked Like Blake's Illustration For A Canal In Grassy Eden: Huge Pacific Watery Shore, Orlovsky Dancing Naked Like Shiva Long-haired Before Giant Green Waves, Titanic Cliffs That Wordsworth Mentioned In His Own Sublime, Great Yellow Sun Veiled With Mist Hanging Over The Planet's Oceanic Horizon. No Harm.

I Really Believe, Or Want To Believe, Really I Am Nuts, Otherwise I'll Never Be Sane.

I Had A Moment Of Clarity, Saw The Feeling In The Heart Of Things, Walked Out To The Garden Crying.