No more to say, and nothing to weep for
Mind is shapely, Art is shapely.
Man is no form no mighty molecule no justidea alone — all that Thing — I feel man tender radiance at Heart betweenbreast and belly, that physical placewhere the Self urges — delicate sensation
I would rather go mad, gone down the dark road to Mexico, heroin dripping in my veins, eyes and ears full of marijuana, eating the god Peyote on the floor of a mudhut on the border or laying in a hote...
I had a moment of clarity, saw the feeling in the heart of things, walked out to the garden crying.
I don't do anything with my life except romanticize and decay with indecision.
I broadcast thru Time
Forget pleasure and Ambition
Clock hands move noonward
. . who were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality. . .
It occurs to me that I am America.I am talking to myself again.
and he imagines carsand rides them in his dreams,so lonely growing up amongthe imaginary automobilesand dead souls of Tarrytownto createout of his own imaginationthe beauty of his wildforebears - a my...
I never dreamed the sea so deep,The earth so dark; so long my sleep,I have become another child.I wake to see the world go wild.
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.
My own experience is that a certain kind of genius among students is best brought out in bed.
Our means in America to control the money munching war machine, bright lit industry
More diamonds and pearls of electricity
Trees scream and drop bright leaves
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy! The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy!
The weight of the worldis love.Under the burdenof solitude,under the burdenof dissatisfactionthe weight,the weight we carry is love.Who can deny? In dreamsit touchesthe body,in thoughtconstructsa mira...