Sometime In The Last Ten Years The

All Those Years And Their Moments— Crackling Bacon, Slamming Car Doors, Poems Tried Out On Friends, Will Be One More Archive, One More Shaky Text.

I Never Did Know Exactly What Was Meant By The Term "the Beats," But Let's Say That The Original Meeting, Association, Comradeship Of Allen Ginsberg, Myself, Michael Mcclure, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Philip Whalen, Who's Not Here, Lew Welch, Who's Dead, Gregory Corso, For Me, To A Somewhat Lesser Extent (i Never Knew Gregory As Well As The Others) Did Embody A Criticism And A Vision Which We Shared In Various Ways, And Then Went Our Own Ways For Many Years.

If, After Obtaining Buddhahood, Anyone In My Land Gets Tossed In Jail On A Vagrancy Rap, May I Not Attain Highest Perfect Enlightenment.

I Try To Hold Both History And Wilderness In Mind, That My Poems May The True Measure Of Things And Stand Against The Unbalance And Ignorance Of Our Times.

Gratitude To The Great Sky Who Holds Billions Of Stars - And Goes Yet Beyond That - Beyond All Powers, And Thoughts And Yet Is Within Us - Grandfather Space. The Mind Is His Wife