That's What The Shaman Said. He Didn't

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

Scientist Alone Is True Poet He Gives Us The Moon He Promises The Stars He'll Make Us A New Universe If It Comes To That.

Sometime I’ll Lay Down My Wrath, As I Lay My Body Down Between The Ache Of Breath And Breath, Golden Slumber In The Bone.

I Saw The Best Minds Of My Generation Destroyed By Madness, Starving Hysterical Naked, Dragging Themselves Through The Negro Streets At Dawn Looking For An Angry Fix Angelheaded Hipsters Burning For The Ancient Heavenly Connection To The Starry Dynamo In The Machinery Of The Night.

An Unnoticed Corner Of The World Suddenly Becomes Noticed, And When You Notice Something Clearly And See It Vividly, It Becomes Sacred. (on Robert Frank's Photography)