America I Used To Be A Communist

The Actual Materials Are Important. A Book At The Nightstand Is Important - A Light You Can Get At - Or A Flashlight As Kerouac Had A Brakeman's Latern.

I Really Would Like To Stop Working Forever–never Work Again, Never Do Anything Like The Kind Of Work I’m Doing Now–and Do Nothing But Write Poetry And Have Leisure To Spend The Day Outdoors And Go To Museums And See Friends. And I’d Like To Keep Living With Someone — Maybe Even A Man — And Explore Relationships That Way. And Cultivate My Perceptions, Cultivate The Visionary Thing In Me. Just A Literary And Quiet City-hermit Existence.

Visions! Omens! Hallucinations! Miracles! Ecstasies! Gone Down The American River! Dreams! Adorations! Illumnations! Religions! The Whole Boatload Of Sensitive Bullshit!

An Unnoticed Corner Of The World Suddenly Becomes Noticed, And When You Notice Something Clearly And See It Vividly, It Becomes Sacred. (on Robert Frank's Photography)

We Are All Exposed To The Flash Bulb Of Death.