I Am Waiting For The War To

[in The True Mad North] Of Introspection, Where 'falcons Of The Inner Eye' Dive And Die, Glimpsing In Their Dying Fall, All Life's Memory Of Existence.

A Lot Of Manuscripts That Come In, You Wonder By What Outrageous Fantasy The Author Believes That This Should Be Pressed Into Print.

Poetry Can Change The World, Just Like Any Art Can Change The World, By Changing Consciousness. Of Course This Was The Great Slogan Of The Nineteen Sixites Hippies’ Revolution—enlarge The Area Of Consciousness, Which Quite Often Was Done By Psychedelic Means.

As I Get Older I Perceive Life Has Its Tail In Its Mouth.

Make Your Mind Learn Its Way Around The Heart.