Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything; it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through any one that suits you.

The Night is young & full of rest, I can't describe the way she's dress'd, She'll pander to some strange requests, Anything that you suggest, Anything to please her guest.

The world becomes an apparently infinite, yet possibly finite, card game. Image combinations, permutations, comprise the world game.

Choose the day and choose the sign of your day! The day's divinity! First thing you see!!

Do you know we are being led to Slaughters by placid admirals & that fat slow generals are getting, Obscene on young blood Do you know we are ruled by t.v.

Lying on stained, wretched sheets with a bleeding virgin, We could plan a murder, Or start a religion.