I Don't Think Of Sex As A

The Painter Saw What Was, An Alternate Candor And Secrecy Inside The Skin.

How Sociable The Garden Was. We Ate And Talked In Given Light. The Children Put Their Toys To Grass All The Warm Wakeful August Night.

We Control The Content Of Our Dreams.

We Learned In The University To Consider Wordsworth And Keats As Romantics. They Were Only A Generation Apart, But Wordsworth Didn't Even Read Keats's Book When He Gave Him A Copy.

Ginsberg's Collected Poems Contains A Wonderful Poem About Making It With Neal Cassady.