Sweetheart, when you break thru you’ll find a poet here, not quite what one would choose.

I have just realized that the stakes are myself I have no other ransom money, nothing to break or barter but my life.

The best thing to do with a mimeograph is to drop it from a five story window, on the head of a cop.

The only war is the war against the imagination.

THE ONLY WAR THAT MATTERS IS THE WAR AGAINSTTHE IMAGINATIONTHE ONLY WAR THAT MATTERS IS THE WAR AGAINSTTHE IMAGINATIONTHE ONLY WAR THAT MATTERS IS THE WAR AGAINSTTHE IMAGINATIONALL OTHER WARS ARE SUBSUMED IN IT

There are as many kinds of kisses as there are people on earth, as there are permutations and combinations of those people. No two people kiss alike—no two people fuck alike—but somehow the kiss is more personal, more individualized than the fuck.

It is still news to her that passioncould steer her wrongthough she went down, a thousand timesstrung outacross railroad tracks, off bridgesunder cars, or stiffglass bottle still in hand, hair softon greasy pillows, still it isnews she cannot follow love (hisburning footsteps in blue crystalsnow) & stillcome out all right.

More or Less Love Poems #11:No babeWe'd neverSwing together butthe syncopationwould be something wild