Scientist Alone Is True Poet

Last Exit To Brooklyn Should Explode Like A Rusty Hellish Bombshell Over America And Still Be Eagerly Read In A Hundred Years.

I Saw The Best Minds Of My Generation Destroyed By Madness, Starving Hysterical Naked.

To Gain Your Own Voice, Forget About Having It Heard. Become A Saint Of Your Own Province And Your Own Consciousness.

I Saw The Best Minds Of My Generation Destroyed By Madness, Starving Hysterical Naked, Dragging Themselves Through The Negro Streets At Dawn Looking For An Angry Fix Angelheaded Hipsters Burning For The Ancient Heavenly Connection To The Starry Dynamo In The Machinery Of The Night.

Taxi September Along Jessore Road Oxcart Skeletons Drag Charcoal Load Past Watery Fields Thru Rain Flood Ruts Dung Cakes On Treetrunks, Plastic-roof Huts Wet Processions Families Walk Stunted Boys Big Heads Don't Talk Look Bony Skulls & Silent Round Eyes Starving Black Angels In Human Disguise.