Where do I begin...

on the heels of Rimbaud moving like a dancing bullet thru the streets of a hot New Jersey night filled with venom and wonder. Meeting the Queen Angel in the reeds of Babylon and then to the fountain of sorrow to drift away in the hot mass of the deluge... to sing praise to the kind of those dead streets, to grasp and let go in a heavenly way - streaming into the lost belly of civilization at a standstill. Romance is taking over. Tolstoy was right. These notes are being written in a bathtub in Maine under ideal conditions. In every Curio lounge from Brooklyn to Guam, form Lowell to Durango Oh sister, when I fall into your spacy arms, can not ya feel the weight of oblivion surface alongside miles standish and take the rock. We have relations in Mozambique. I have a brother or two and a whole lots of karma to burn... Isis and the moon shine on me When Rubin gets out of jail, we celebrate in the historical parking lots in sunburned California.

-Bob Dylan ... from the album jacket of Desire