It strikes me you all, y'all outlaw poets maybelieve time, the concrete, the recordable, may meansomething. I inform you, via Twain, all that is shit. Stabilities you thot existed do not exist. Mr. Jackknew this. Cassady smelled this, before Jack, with j.the next day. We all face breath, inhale, life. What to do with it? Jack knew. Give oneself all the comforts onedisires. All the pleasures. Then. That's up to you. sam flavor.