We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.

Concentrate on what you want to say to yourself and your friends. Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness. You say what you want to say when you don't care who's listening.

What came is gone forever every time

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

The censorship of language is the censorship of consciousness.

I know I'm not God, are you? Don't be silly. God? God? Everybody's God? Don't be silly.

Others can measure their visions by what we see.