Poetry is not the record of an event: it is an event.

The world is absolutely out of control now and is not going to be saved by any reason or unreason.

It's a completely powerful and serious book, as good as anything in prose or poetry written by a 'beat' writer, and one of the most alive books written by any American for years. I don't see how it could be considered immoral.

Everywhere, giant finned cars nose forward like fish; a savage servility slides by on grease.

We feel the machine slipping from our hands As if someone else were steering; If we see light at the end of the tunnel, It's the light of the oncoming train.

And blue-lung'd combers lumbered to the kill.

Middle Age At forty-five, What next, what next? At every corner, I meet my Father, My age, still alive.