Poetry Will Absorb And Transmute,

I Think That What's Happening Today, With All The Young Poets Rushing From One College To Another, Lecturing At The Drop Of A Hat And So On, Is Not Too Good; I Think It Might Have A Bad Effect On A Great Many Of The Young Poets. They - To Quote Mark Twain - "swap Juices" A Little Too Much, So That They Are In Danger Of Losing Their Own Identity And Don't Give Themselves Time Enough In Which To Work Out What's Really Of Importance To Them - They're Too Busy.

Youth Yearns To Youth, Full Blood Loves Full Blood Only.

The Hiss Was Now Becoming A Roar - The Whole World Was A Vast Moving Screen Of Snow - But Even Now It Said Peace, It Said Remoteness, It Said Cold, It Said Sleep.

Time Is A Dream ... A Destroying Dream; It Lays Great Cities In Dust, It Fills The Seas; It Covers The Face Of Beauty, And Tumbles Walls.

I've Tried It Long Ago, With Hashish And Peyote. Fascinating, Yes, But No Good, No. This, As We Find In Alcohol, Is An Escape From Awareness, A Cheat, A Momentary Substitution, And In The End A Destruction Of It.