A new music is a new mind.

I'll write whatever I damn please, whenever I damn please and as I damn please and it'll be good if the authentic spirit of change is on it.

My surface is myself. Under which to witness, youth is buried. Roots? Everybody has roots.

THESE are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night and the heart plunges lower than night.

You have the chicken, the hen, and the rooster. The chicken goes with the hen So who is having sex with the rooster?

My first poem was a bolt from the blue … it broke a spell of disillusion and suicidal despondence. ... it filled me with soul satisfying joy.

Empty pockets make empty heads.