One Joins The Movement In A Valueless

Ginsberg's Collected Poems Contains A Wonderful Poem About Making It With Neal Cassady.

Direct Me Gods, Whose Changes Are All Holy, To Where It Flickers Deep In Grass, The Moly.

I Don't Think Of Sex As A Self-destructive Impulse.

We Tend To Put Poems Into Factions. And It Restricts Our Reading.

I Notice That Students, Particularly For Gay Students, It's Too Easy To Write About My Last Trick Or Something. It's Not Very Interesting To The Reader.