This Is The One And Only Firmament;

The Typewriter Is Holy The Poem Is Holy The Voice Is Holy The Hearers Are Holy The Ecstacy Is Holy!

It's Never To Late To Do Nothing At All.

Visions! Omens! Hallucinations! Miracles! Ecstasies! Gone Down The American River! Dreams! Adorations! Illumnations! Religions! The Whole Boatload Of Sensitive Bullshit!

My Books Piled Up Before Me For My Use Waiting In Space Where I Placed Them, They Haven't Disappeared, Time's Left Its Remnants And Qualities For Me To Use -- My Words Piled Up, My Texts, My Manuscripts, My Loves.

I Really Would Like To Stop Working Forever–never Work Again, Never Do Anything Like The Kind Of Work I’m Doing Now–and Do Nothing But Write Poetry And Have Leisure To Spend The Day Outdoors And Go To Museums And See Friends. And I’d Like To Keep Living With Someone — Maybe Even A Man — And Explore Relationships That Way. And Cultivate My Perceptions, Cultivate The Visionary Thing In Me. Just A Literary And Quiet City-hermit Existence.