The state of the world calls out for poetry to save it.

Invent a new language anyone can understand.

The art has to make it on its own, without explanations, and it’s the same for poetry. If the poem or the painting has to be explained, then it’s a failure in communication.

[in the true mad north] of introspection, where 'falcons of the inner eye' dive and die, glimpsing in their dying fall, all life's memory of existence.

Don't bow down to critics who have not themselves written great masterpieces.

This is all very nice, because the ideas that Jack and the Beat generation stood for are needed today more than ever. But I'm not so interested in nostalgia. I'm interested in the future.

I am waiting for the war to be fought which will make the world safe for anarchy