In The End, There Is No End.

Wallowing In This Bloody Sty, I Cast For Fish That Pleased My Eye

I Will Catch Christ With A Greased Worm, And When The Prince Of Darkness Stalks My Bloodstream To Its Stygian Term . . . On Water The Man-fisher Walks.

We Are All Old-timers, Each Of Us Holds A Locked Razor.

It's The Light Of The Oncoming Train.

It's A Completely Powerful And Serious Book, As Good As Anything In Prose Or Poetry Written By A 'beat' Writer, And One Of The Most Alive Books Written By Any American For Years. I Don't See How It Could Be Considered Immoral.