I Want To Be A Saint, A

Who Burned Cigarette Holes In Their Arms Protesting The Narcotic Tobacco Haze Of Capitalism

The Combination Of Drugs, Homosexuality, Some Good Prose Recited On Screen. . . . In The Sweat Lodge Ceremony We Went Through, Did You Get Any Glimpse Of The Ugly Spirit, What That Was Historically Or Biographically?

Last Exit To Brooklyn Should Explode Like A Rusty Hellish Bombshell Over America And Still Be Eagerly Read In A Hundred Years.

From It's Inception Beat Poetry Was Hailed As "something New" And "like All Good Spontaneous Jazz, Newness Is Acceptable And Expected - By Hip People Who Listen." But The Newness Of Jazz Has In It The Echoes Of J. S. Bach.

Taxi September Along Jessore Road Oxcart Skeletons Drag Charcoal Load Past Watery Fields Thru Rain Flood Ruts Dung Cakes On Treetrunks, Plastic-roof Huts Wet Processions Families Walk Stunted Boys Big Heads Don't Talk Look Bony Skulls & Silent Round Eyes Starving Black Angels In Human Disguise.