What If Someone Gave A War And

I Want To Be A Saint, A Real Saint While I Am Young, For There Is So Much Work To Do.

I Think It Was When I Ran Into Kerouac And Burroughs - When I Was 17 - That I Realized I Was Talking Through An Empty Skull... I Wasn't Thinking My Own Thoughts Or Saying My Own Thoughts.

One Must Verge On The Unknown, Write Toward The Truth Hitherto Unrecognizable Of One’s Own Sincerity, Including The Avoidable Beauty Of Doom, Shame, And Embarrassment, That Very Area Of Personal Self-recognition,(detailed Individual Is Universal Remember) Which Formal Conventions, Internalized, Keep Us From Discovering In Ourselves And Others

Last Exit To Brooklyn Should Explode Like A Rusty Hellish Bombshell Over America And Still Be Eagerly Read In A Hundred Years.

…we’re All Beautiful Golden Sunflowers Inside, We’re All Blessed By Our Own Seed & Golden Hairy Naked Accomplishment (sunflower Sutra)