Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!
Thank God I am not God! Thank God I am not God!
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river! Dreams! adorations! illumnations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!
Everybody's serious but me.
A poem is like a radio that can broadcast continuously for thousands of years.
I saw the best minds of my generation who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade.