A poem is a naked person... Some people say that I am a poet.

She can play my guitar note for note, she likes to stick her tongue down my throat.

Well, I don't know, but I've been told the streets in heaven are lined with gold. I ask you how things could get much worse if the Russians happen to get up there first; Wowee! pretty scary!

With your silhouette when the sunlight dims Into your eyes where the moonlight swims, And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns, Who among them would try to impress you? -Bob Dylan, "Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands” (1966)

In the dime stores and bus stations, people talk of situations, read books, repeat quotations, draw conclusions on the wall.

and if anybody asks me is it easy to forget I'll say it is easily done, you just pick anyone, and pretend that you never have met

People call you this or that. But I can't respond because then it seems like I'm defensive, you know, what does it matter, really?