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“I was looking at the sensoriums of heroes. I was sensing through the eyes and nose of Shelley and John Webster, and using the hearing and touch of Ginsberg and Duncan and Kerouac–â€� and the jazz lucidity of Creeley, and the Doug fir of Snyder, and the almost mystical, physical perceptions of D.H. Lawrence and of Olson himself. I was convinced that poetry was about, by, and from, the meat, that poetry was the product of flesh brushing itself against experience. We are seekers moving in the Tathagata brushing ourselves against the universe of the real, solid illusions. It is by our touches that we become ourselves –â€� as our ancestors became us and as we became our maturing, sharpening, brightening selves.”
― Michael McClure, Scratching the Beat Surface: Essays on New Vision from Blake to Kerouac

“The machines are too dull when we
are lion-poems that move & breathe.”
― Michael McClure, Ghost Tantras