I Pressed Her Thigh And Death Smiled

In The Beginning We Were Creating Our Music, Ourselves, Every Night . . . Starting With A Few Outlines, Maybe A Few Words For A Song. Sometimes We Worked Out In Venice, Looking At The Surf. We Were Together A Lot And It Was Good Times For All Of Us. Acid, Sun, Friends, The Ocean, And Poetry And Music.

Is Everybody In?... Is Everybody In?... Is Everybody In? The Ceremony Is About To Begin... The Program For This Evening Is Not New. You've Seen This Entertainment Through And Through. You've Seen Your Birth, Your Life And Death. You Might Recall All The Rest. Did You Have A Good World When You Died? Enough To Base A Movie On?

The Most Loving Parents And Relatives Commit Murder With Smiles On Their Faces. They Force Us To Destroy The Person We Really Are: A Subtle Kind Of Murder.

I Think In Art, But Especially In Films, People Are Trying To Confirm Their Own Existences.

Listen, Real Poetry Doesn't Say Anything; It Just Ticks Off The Possibilities. Opens All Doors. You Can Walk Through Anyone That Suits You.