When You Notice Something Clearly And See

Mind Is Shapely, Art Is Shapely.

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.

The Whole Blear World Of Smoke And Twisted Steel Around My Head In A Railroad Car, And My Mind Wandering Past The Rust Into Futurity: I Saw The Sun Go Down In A Carnal And Primeval World, Leaving Darkness To Cover My Railroad Train Because The Other Side Of The World Was Waiting For Dawn.

Poetry Is The One Place Where People Can Speak Their Original Human Mind. It Is The Outlet For People To Say In Public What Is Known In Private.

Last Exit To Brooklyn Should Explode Like A Rusty Hellish Bombshell Over America And Still Be Eagerly Read In A Hundred Years.