Mind Is Shapely, Art Is

Poetry Is The One Place Where People Can Speak Their Original Human Mind. It Is The Outlet For People To Say In Public What Is Known In Private.

What Thoughts I Have Of You Tonight, Walt Whit- Man, For I Walked Down The Sidestreets Under The Trees With A Headache Self-conscious Looking At The Full Moon. In My Hungry Fatigue, And Shopping For Images, I Went Into The Neon Fruit Supermarket, Dreaming Of Your Enumerations!

Tell Your Secrets. [in Reply To The Question "how Does One Become A Prophet?"]

The Apparition Of An Evil, Sick Unconscious Wild City Rose Before Me In Visible Semblance, And About The Dead Buildings In The Barren Air, The Bodies Of The Soul That Built The Wonderland Shuffled And Stalked And Stalked And Lurched In Attitudes Of Immemorial Nightmare All Around.

If You Want To Make Order, Put Your Own Heart In Order, And, Having Put One's Heart In Order, One Can Regulate The Family Order.