who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism

A poem is like a radio that can broadcast continuously for thousands of years.

Mind is shapely, Art is shapely.

My own experience is that a certain kind of genius among students is best brought out in bed.

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river! Dreams! adorations! illumnations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism

We love to be hurt and we love to have our unhealing wounds opened and reopened again: we sit staring in the mirror of art, fascinated by our own deformities.