Visions! Omens! Hallucinations! Miracles! Ecstasies! Gone Down

To Gain Your Own Voice You Have To Forget About Having It Heard.

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

The Rolling Stones Were An Inkling Towards An Appreciation Of The Unity Of Music, Dance And Words. Any Of The Black R&b People Who Had A Stage Show That Involved Dancing, Music And Words Did The Same Thing, Except That I Thought Jagger's Words Were Good, His Music Was Good And His Dancing Was Good. I Spoke To Him About Blake And Tried To Get Him To Sing [william] Blake's The Grey Monk, To Use His Words As Lyrics. He Didn't Do It. In The End, I Did It Myself.

Who Dreamt And Made Incarnate Gaps In Time & Space Through Images Juxtaposed, And Trapped The Archangel Of The Soul Between 2 Visual Images And Joined The Elemental Verbs And Set The Noun And Dash Of Consciousness Together Jumping With Sensation Of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus To Recreate The Syntax And Measure Of Poor Human Prose And Stand Before You Speechless And Intelligent And Shaking With Shame

I Saw You, Walt Whitman, Childless, Lonely Old Grubber,poking Among The Meats In The Refrigerator And Eyeing The Grocery Boys. I Heard You Asking Questions Of Each: Who Killed The Pork Chops? What Price Bananas? Are You My Angel?