Candor disarms paranoia.

The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstacy is holy!

I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?

in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

Which way will the sunflower turn surrounded by millions of suns?

You can't photograph everything.

America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I'm not sorry.