I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride, and I'm wanted (want-ed. . . !) dead or alive.
Miles above the Earth we know , Fancy's rocket roars. Below, Here and Now are needles which Sew a pattern black as pitch, Waiting for the rocket's light.
As science pushes forward, ignorance and superstition gallop around the flanks and bite science in the rear with big dark teeth.
The stars above will be below when man has Love.
Tomorrow changes the face of reality.
It was the essence of life to disbelieve in death for one's self, to act as if life would continue forever. And life had to act also as if little issues were big ones. To take a realistic attitude toward life and death meant that one lapsed into unreality. Into insanity. It was ironic that the only way to keep one's sanity was to ignore that one was in an insane world or to act as if the world were sane.
Resurrection , like politics , makes strange bedfellows.
In the 19th century inhumanity meant cruelty; in the 20th century it means schizoid self-alienation.
Growing up in the fifties, having to wear a dog tag, having to take shelter in a bomb shelter. That turned me toward the road, I did not want to live in fear of that, I was gong to work somehow against what that vision was, and what that horror was. It was poetry, art, music.
Respect Buddha and the gods without counting on their help
He whom God has touched will always be a being apart: he is, whatever he may do, a stranger among men; he is marked by a sign.