Everybody's Serious But Me.

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

Sanity - A Trick Of Agreement

The Apparition Of An Evil, Sick Unconscious Wild City Rose Before Me In Visible Semblance, And About The Dead Buildings In The Barren Air, The Bodies Of The Soul That Built The Wonderland Shuffled And Stalked And Stalked And Lurched In Attitudes Of Immemorial Nightmare All Around.

A Poem Is Like A Radio That Can Broadcast Continuously For Thousands Of Years.

I Touch Your Book And Dream Of Our Odyssey In The Supermarket And Feel Absurd.