It seems that it is only too willing to break with the conventions of the past, as if form and meter are inadequate, unnecessary, quaint. We had gone beyond a point of no return - and we were ready for it, for a point of no return. We wanted to make it new and we wanted to invent it and the process of it. We wanted voice and we wanted vision. From old movies, you probably have seen a gathering of beatnik types gathered together for a poetry reading.
Red asteroids assault the evergrowing tagents slithering noiselike out of frostbitten tongues.
The poet is accompanied by the beating of bongo drums. Perhaps the drums were used to help induce a trance-like state. Throw off this malaise, the evasion, this attitudinizing and sickliness of urbanity. Penetrate to the discord in yourself, the rootlessness, and induce the trance that will heal the rift within. Of course, if the Beat poets would have been left to themselves, no harm would have been done.