A howl of rage!
When I first read those opening lines of Howl I realised that poetry was alive again and it spoke to me. Howl opened the door. All my terrible education had done was to reduce it to misery. This was vital, alive and wonderful. What with Bob Dylan, Jack Kerouac and, a little later, Roy Harper, I suddenly had a new vision, new language and a new perspective on life, society and the maniacs who are running our lives. Poetry was a window into my own head.
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