“that blue flame burnning? Industry!”

“our means in America to control the money munching war machine, bright lit industry”

“Television concentrates its blue flicker of death in the frontal lobe”

“who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism”

“Banks burn, boys die bullet-eyed, mothers scream realization the vast tonnage of napalm”

“Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I've been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues shout blind on the phonograph”

“Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight? (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.) Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely. Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage? Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?”