You Don't Become A Saint Until You

The Modern Sensibility Attempts To Drain The Contents Of Experience; These Greek Poets Strive To State The Fact So Poignantly That It Becomes An Ever-flowing Spring As Sappho Says, "more Real Than Real, More Gold Than Gold.

Ex-cons Always Say, "you Never Know What Makes The Wheels Go Round Until You've Done Time In The Joint." This Is Even More True Of Psychiatric Hospitals. It Is A Perfect Mass Hypostatization Of Society, The Organization Of The Social Lie.

Art Is The Reasoned Derangement Of The Senses.

We Have Forgotten Love, And Sat Lonely Beside Each Other. We Have Eaten Together, Lonely Behind Our Plates, We Have Hidden Behind Children, We Have Slept Together In A Lonely Bed. Now My Heart Turns Toward You, Awake At Last, Penitent, Lost In The Last Loneliness. Speak To Me. Talk To Me. Break The Black Silence.

The Free, Creative, Loving People Who Shine So Brightly In My Memory Of Studios And Coffee Shops Have Become Models For A Huge Section Of The Population. If They In Turn Can Just Stay Alive In The Face Of Power And Terror, They May Become The Decisive Section.