I Was Suddenly Left With Nothing In

Because The Only People For Me Are The Mad Ones.

Things Are So Hard To Figure Out When You Live From Day To Day In This Feverish And Silly World.

Writing At Least Is A Silent Meditation Even Though You’re Going A Hundred Miles An Hour.

I Was Halfway Across America, At The Dividing Line Between The East Of My Youth And The West Of My Future.

Equally Empty, Equally To Be Loved, Equally A Coming Buddha